


The Girl Outside

by Sashataakheru



Series: The Girl Outside 'verse [1]
Category: The Move RPS
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, Body Dysphoria, Child Neglect, Community: queer_fest, Explicit Sex, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Menstruation, Mental Illness, Psychosis, Schizophrenia, Sex Toys, disappearing band members, medical transition, psychiatric treatments, self-harming/self-injury, transgender AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-29
Updated: 2011-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 49,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ace knew he was male from the time he could form thoughts. A stroke of luck brings him a chance to live as a boy, but with big responsibilities attached as he becomes acquainted with the trials and tribulations of nobility. When Bev lost his dad, it offered an opportunity to transition that he may not get again. They meet at the Pie Stand one night after a gig, neither are aware of how important their relationship will ultimately become as they fight to establish their place in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Early Years 1953-1961

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Any Fandom: any pairing where both characters are trans, class differences have given them two very experiences of transitioning
> 
> 1) So much of this is headcanon I can't even. It's all entirely fictional, apart from ~~a few~~ ~~several~~ quite a lot of references to rl events, especially in Bev's life. I have resisted the urge to add references and footnotes. /been at uni too long.  
>  2) I made sure to do plenty of research before writing about psychosis, schizotypal disorder, and schizophrenia to make sure I wrote them all realistically. I have done my best not to offend or get anything wrong with my portrayals, but if I have inadvertently done something wrong, please let me know so I can avoid the mistake in the future.  
> 3) I've tried to make this as plausible/realistic as possible for the time period ('53-'74), but if there are any mistakes, consider them artistic licence.  
> 4) Also, I've Britpicked this as best as I can, since there wasn't time to get someone to Britpick it for me. Apologies in advance if I've missed something that's not right.  
> 5) Also I may have become a bit tired of the forced disclosure/accidental discovery trope that plagues a lot of transfic so I made the conscious decision to give my boys as much agency as possible to come out on their own terms, if they wanted to come out at all.

_Chris' house, Yardley Wood, Birmingham, March 1953_  
He sat in the cupboard under the stairs with his hands over his ears, trying to block out all the noise. His sisters were arguing again, or was it his parents? Had his dad gone crazy again? He didn't really know, just that the noise was deafening and he couldn't think. Needed to hide away until it got quiet again. Something smashed against a wall and there was a shriek of anger. Chris pressed his hands tighter over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. If he screamed loudly enough, he might be heard. It might shut out the noise in his head.

He had retreated here some time ago and torn his dress off in disgust. He was hoping at some point his mother would stop making him wear them as he just ruined every one he had. His mother hadn't believed him when he said he was a boy three years ago. It had been his third birthday and he'd been given a ragdoll his grandmother had made. He cried and threw it away, wishing for something else, like the Dinky toys and cars his brother had. He didn't care for dolls. He thought they were creepy.

He'd destroyed one of his sisters' dolls last Christmas after she'd tormented him with it for too long, trying to get him to play with it. He'd screamed, torn one of the arms off, and thrown the doll away. He didn't care if he got punished. He didn't want to be near that doll. His sister burst into tears, his mother slapped him, and he was shunted up into the attic. Lying down on the thin mattress, he cried until he was allowed to come down again, wondering if they would ever listen to him.

The house was too big. Too small. Too many people. Too much noise. He was the youngest, had a complicated birth, and was born sickly and weak. He'd never really recovered. His mother had nearly died, and he was sure everyone resented him for that. His brother pushed him around a lot. His sisters just kept dressing him up, involving him in their games until they were too old for that sort of thing. Then he was just left alone in a noisy house to make his own fun. All he did was look for places to hide. It took a while before he realised they had long since stopped looking for him. He would come back on his own some time later and announce how long he'd been gone, and they would look at him perplexed, as if they hadn't noticed at all.

* * *

 _Bev's house, Sparkhill, Birmingham, May 1955_  
The house felt far too empty now that her dad had died. Bev sort of understood where he'd gone. Her mother had said something about being with angels in Heaven, though it was hard to imagine what that was supposed to be like. When she asked her mother where Heaven was, she said it was in the sky above the clouds. Bev wasn't sure she followed that particular branch of logic. Wouldn't everyone fall down?

She watched her father being buried in the churchyard in a shiny wooden box. Her mother wept. She didn't. Everyone said she was a brave girl for not crying, that she needed to be strong for her mother now. Bev didn't really know what to say to that, but promised she'd do everything she could to look after her mother, which seemed to make them smile at her, as if she'd said the right thing. They didn't offer her any advice as to what it was she was supposed to do, though, and she would ponder this for hours afterwards.

There was no man in the house anymore, apart from the dog. But the dog didn't count because he was a dog. Bev curled up beside him every night, her head resting on his chest as she listened to his heartbeat. It was strangely comforting. She knew her mother was worried. Bev wondered how they were going to survive without her father around. She knew she didn't want another father though. Even if he was the nicest man in the world, he still wouldn't be her father. Not her real father anyway.

Once summer came, she spent nearly every day in her mother's shop. Sometimes she'd bring her friends with her, but it didn't always matter. She loved their dog, and he was always fiercely protective of her when she was out alone, but she didn't want to stray too far from her mother just yet. Some thought it strange she wanted to spend so much of her summer indoors, especially as she was usually such an active child, but she didn't really mind. She needed time to think about things. She wasn't sure what those things were, but she knew she needed to think. Helping her mother in the shop at least made her feel useful too when she needed a distraction from thinking about things. Losing your father was a terribly convenient excuse for almost anything, as much as she hated to admit it to herself.

She spent a lot of time thinking about her dad. There were times when she did feel very sad about it because he wasn't in the house anymore. She'd curl up beside her mother and cry, and she'd ask when he was coming home, and her mother would lie and say he was coming home soon. She knew it was wrong to ask when he was coming back. She'd seen him in hospital before he'd died. She'd seen it in his eyes. He wasn't alive anymore. He wasn't coming back. But she tried not to think about that too often. It made her sad. Instead, she thought about all the things she'd done with her dad, and that made things better.

There had been times in her life when she'd thought she'd rather be a boy. She remembered talking to her dad about it one day. She asked him if he would've rather had a son instead of a daughter, and he'd said he'd have loved her anyway, whether she was a girl or a boy. She thought about that for a while too. If it didn't matter if she was a girl or a boy, did she really have to pick one? Couldn't she be both? Her father just told her to be herself, whatever that was.

She was confused then. If her father hadn't cared, and she thought she might like being both, how was she supposed to do that? Was that even possible? She was most definitely a girl, and everyone treated her that way, but sometimes the other girls teased her and laughed at her as she climbed trees and rode her bicycle all over town. It didn't really matter though. Her closest friends were a couple of boys who lived a street away, Mark and Bill, and they never treated her like a girl. She wasn't sure she ever thought of herself as a girl, and her friends as boys. They were just friends as far as she was concerned. A few times, as they were playing in their wooden fort in the woods, they said she was more of a boy than they were, and Bev laughed and agreed as she flung some mud at them, preparing to storm the fort and capture some enemy knights.

It was only now that her dad was gone that she thought a bit more about these things. Her friends said it didn't matter, but the girls at school were becoming, well, more girly, and Bev wondered why. She tried to imagine what she'd look like as an adult, but even then, she didn't seem to be either a boy or a girl, but neither. But that wasn't possible. Everyone had a gender; you couldn't be born without one, could you?

All she knew was that whatever her gender was, it wasn't particularly feminine. Perhaps she should be a boy then, if she had to pick one. Certainly she'd never been particularly girly, but it had never been much of a problem. She'd been allowed to play with whatever she wanted, and wear whatever she liked. She kept staring at her reflection in the mirror and wondered what she was supposed to be. She kept answering with 'boy', but she didn't know what to do with that thought.

At some point after this, when something crystallised in her head to the point where it could no longer be ignored, she bought some boys clothes from a charity shop and threw her dresses away. She announced to her mother she wasn't going to be a girl anymore because the house needed a man, and she was the only one who could do it. Her mother brought her into her arms and cried again, unable to say no.

* * *

 _Chris' house, Yardley Wood, Birmingham, May 1955_  
He'd feigned illness to avoid going to school. His dad was home for once, and he wanted to spend some time with him. He was sure he was the only one who preferred his dad to his mother. He understood him. His mother just used it as an excuse to tell him how mad he was because he spent so much time with his dad. Chris just thought she was jealous that he understood him better than she did.

His dad was on the sofa, listening to the radio. Chris sat beside him, smiling at him. His dad was sick. There was something wrong with his head. That was how his mother had tried to explain it to him. He didn't really understand, and he wasn't sure he cared. His dad had never hurt him so why should he be afraid of him?

His dad was talking again, staring into space. Chris curled up beside him, and his dad brought an arm around him. They talked in the only way they knew how to talk. They shared a language that no one else knew.

His dad would often tell him stories about all sorts of magical places. Chris loved hearing about them, and he had his favourites too, like the land with the violet grass and the birds that grew strawberries. It had three suns that shone down on the land, and everyone was happy. They sung all the time, and if they weren't careful, they could sing things into being. Chris loved that idea so much he'd tried singing his own spells, but nothing ever happened.

Sometimes, his dad said he could hear things. Sometimes, Chris was sure he could hear them too. He had told his mother about that once, but she'd said he was just imagining it. Chris wasn't so sure about that.

He'd never been the best dad, and he wasn't always around because he was sick, but he was the only person who'd ever shown Chris an ounce of kindness. He called him his son, and Chris could never quite find the right words to tell him how much he appreciated that. His dad believed him, even if no one else did. Chris could forgive him his faults, just for that alone, even if his dad wasn't really with it half the time, lost in his own world of dreams.

Chris liked escaping too. It was why he read almost anything he could get his hands on, especially when his dad wasn't around to tell him stories. They didn't own that many books, and he had to be careful about when he took his brother's comic books so he didn't get into trouble, but it was all he had. He'd lie in bed late at night, entranced by the images dancing around in his head. He wondered if books ever came alive like that for anyone else. Books taught him that anything was possible, especially if you wished hard enough. He often wondered then that if he wished hard enough, maybe he might finally turn into a proper boy. That would be nice. Then maybe his mother would like him. Then he wouldn't need to wear dresses anymore.

He liked music too, and he would often sneak down to the garage to listen to his brother practicing. He never got to stay long, though. His brother would shoo him away like an unwanted pest, and it was down to him to sneak in when he wasn't looking and play his bass guitar. He liked playing records too, but he wasn't old enough to have many of his own so he'd borrow them from his siblings instead.

He only ever played them when he was with his dad though. When they were alone, and the house was quiet, Chris would turn off the radio and put records on instead. His dad would smile as he tried to handle the bass guitar as well, though it was too big for him and he wasn't strong enough to play it for very long. It was all he had before his brother came home and took the guitar back, hitting him for daring to touch it. Chris would run off crying, looking for somewhere to hide. He wished he had things of his own.

The moments he spent with his dad were always peaceful. The house was finally quiet because no one else was home. They could both finally hear themselves without the screaming taking over. Chris could finally hear himself think and silence the madness in his head. They didn't always talk, sometimes they didn't need to, but Chris liked being with him because he didn't call him names or say he was mad. He didn't hit him or try and make him be a girl. They understood each other.

Sometimes, his dad got scared, and sometimes he pushed him away a little, but Chris just held his hand and said everything would be alright. He didn't know what else to do. His dad would bring him close and whisper to him how much he loved him, and for a moment, Chris felt like he belonged.

* * *

 _Moseley Grammar, Moseley, Birmingham, September 1955_  
Bev gazed around the grounds, wondering if he might make any friends. His mother had made sure he understood how lucky he was to be going there at all, and he was determined not to let her down. He'd need a job so he could take care of her, because that's what the man of the house did, and for that, he needed to go to school. He was all ready to be perfectly diligent in his studies, but that was before he met Jasper. Jasper was endlessly entertaining, and they quickly became friends. His promise to study was quickly eroded away.

Bev wasn't allowed to tell anyone he was a girl, not at first, and his mother had found a doctor who was willing to give him testosterone shots so he could go through puberty at the same time as his classmates. Bev didn't really understand all the medical words. He had no idea there was a medical way to turn a girl into a boy either. He would've been quite content to just dress like one and fake it as best he could. His mother just said she'd been lucky. She was seeing the right doctor at the right time and it all fell into place. Bev felt that was as good an explanation as he was going to get and was more than delighted he'd have a proper male body. If he was going to be a boy now, he might as well do it properly.

Bev didn't understand why his mother had gone to so much trouble for him. Actually, he didn't really know why she was letting him be a boy, either. As far as he was concerned, that wasn't something he expected society would just accept without question. He didn't want to cause more trouble for himself, but he was seeing people who knew him as a girl and there was always some confusion as to why he was being addressed as a boy now. His mother seemed to explain it as some sort of reaction to his father's death. It was still too fresh in people's minds to say anything to the contrary.

Bev did remember an aunt taking particular umbridge at Bev being allowed to dress so slovenly, with boys clothes and short hair and now going to a boy's school. It was all a little too much too far, or so she said. He should go back to being a girl now, and stop playing games. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he'd taken things too far by insisting on going to a boy's school. But his mother told him not to pay any attention to her and said they'd made the right decision. He'd get teased at a girl's school anyway for being so different. At least he'd blend in with other boys this way. She was just trying to make life easier for him.

When he thought about it, he wasn't even sure how to articulate his situation either, should the need arise to tell someone. Sure, part of him wanted to be a boy so he could look after his mother, but there was also another part that kept reminding him he'd always wanted to do this, and he'd just happened to stumble upon the best opportunity he might ever get to change his sex with as little trouble as possible. That he'd never heard anyone else talk about being in the same situation silenced him somewhat as he had no way of knowing if there was anyone else like him out there. He was the odd one out, but he didn't mind so much. They seemed to like him anyway, which offered little incentive to change.

He was visiting a clinic at the hospital once a week for injections and therapy. He was never sure he needed the therapy, there were only so many times he could talk about missing his dad, but it did help him come to terms with the way his body changed. He never mentioned the fact that he didn't think he had a gender though. He didn't think his therapist would understand, so he just told her he'd always wanted to be a boy. That seemed to work.

As much an experiment as a patient as his doctor had never helped a child transition before, he was subjected to all manner of tests to document his development. Bev quickly tired of them. They weren't so hard once he'd worked out how to do them, and if it meant he could continue to become a boy, well, there were worse things in life, that's for sure.

* * *

 _Cherry Blossom Clinic, south of Gloucester, midsummer 1958_  
Chris sat in the car crying. He didn't know what he'd done wrong. His mother was driving him off to some clinic because he'd been bad. It was supposed to fix him, make him better, but Chris didn't feel sick at all. Tugging at the hem of the dress he was in, he badly wanted to be rid of it. He was not a girl! He'd never been a girl! Why didn't his mother understand this?

The clinic was a big old house set in the countryside. It had high walls and pretty gardens. Chris hated it immediately as he was hauled out of the car by his mother and left in the care of two nurses.

"If you can't fix her, you can keep her. I can't afford to take care of her anymore, not with her father the way he is. Got it off him, she did, all the madness. She ain't never been normal," his mother said as she handed him over.

"We'll do our best. Doctor Hamilton is one of the best in the country," one of the nurses said, trying to sound reassuring.

Chris didn't feel at all reassured, and he cried and screamed as he was led into the building, convinced he would never see his mother again.

* * *

 _Bev's house, Sparkhill, Birmingham, June 1958_  
Bev was quite happy with how his body looked. He was beginning to look like a proper boy, all muscles and deep voice and whatnot. The only thing he lacked was a penis, a proper one. He felt he might've worried about if more if his friends hadn't accepted him as well as they had. He'd picked them very carefully, sussing out whether they were safe enough to come out to. With his mother's permission, of course. They thought he was a bit mad, but they liked him all the same. It was hard to tell he'd ever been a girl anyway, so there didn't seem any point in referring to him in that way.

While he had never let on he had developed a bit of a thing for boys as he grew up, it was easily countered by the girls who'd caught his eye. It was also ridiculously easy to slip away from school in time for the afternoon matinee at the cinema, which was always more entertaining than being in school. He'd sometimes dream about all those pretty girls he saw on screen, picturing himself as their dashing lover who'd come and sweep them off their feet. He did rather enjoy dreaming about them too. In his dreams, they didn't mind that he had no gender. They still loved him anyway. He thought that was the best thing ever and he hoped he'd find someone who didn't care either.

Bev felt he might've cared more for school if he hadn't had quite so many distractions. His mother did nothing to curb his enthusiasm either. Their love of rock and roll music had him and his friends forming a band, and Bev had been left with drums because the others already had guitars. His mother seemed surprisingly eager to buy him some drums in spite of the cost, but Bev wasn't complaining. And when he sat down and started playing, he showed remarkable talent, and his mother sat there holding back her tears.

When Bev asked why she was so sad, she told him about his father. He used to be a jazz drummer back in the 40s. Bev was named after him, he was told, and he'd never felt quite so much responsibility before in his life. Maybe that's why his mother let him be a boy, so he could take after his father. Maybe that's why his mother had talked him out of changing his name too. He wasn't sure he'd have been allowed to do this if he'd stayed as a girl. Filled with a new sense of purpose, and with a supportive mother behind him, Bev promised to be the best drummer he could possibly be and make his father proud.

* * *

 _Chris' house, Yardley Wood, Birmingham, late August 1958_  
Two months later, Chris' mother came for him. He was unceremoniously handed back to his mother, who sat him in the back as they drove home in silence. Twelve years old and he was already a lost cause. He had never felt so abandoned in his life.

He had refused to be a girl, no matter how much they zapped his brain or how many different pills they gave him or even how many dresses they put him in. The more they tried to force him to conform, the more stubbornly he refused to behave. He didn't remember everything that had actually happened to him, but what he did remember wasn't good, and he wasn't sure he wanted to remember the rest either.

He did remember the room he was kept in. Boring grey carpet and white concrete brick walls. It had reminded him of a prison cell, what with the hard walls, the metal furniture, and the small barred window high on the far wall. He hated it. He sometimes felt he really was a prisoner, given how he would be locked in there when the doctor got particularly exasperated with his stubbornness. He remembered feeling sick a lot, and he thought that if making him sick was supposed to make him better, they were mistaken. It just made him feel sick and hate the people who were supposed to be looking after him. They were doctors. Doctors were supposed to make people better, not make them feel sick.

And then there were the dolls. He remembered the dolls the most. Creepy horrible dolls with scrunched up faces and stupid hair and frilly dresses that had been imposed on him as if the mere sight of them would make him realise his folly and embrace his femininity again. They were there in his room as he slept, and he was too afraid of punishment to touch them or remove them from sight. Sometimes, he could've sworn they were talking to him. The nightmares had been terrifying.

And at the end of it all, he was more convinced than ever that he was supposed to be a boy, and nothing at all would shake his belief. The doctors had said he was a lost cause, that he was morally deviant and would never amount to anything. But Chris knew he would always be a boy, no matter what they said, and if his mother couldn't accept that, then maybe he should leave. It wasn't like she'd notice he was gone. He'd be doing her a favour.

He was shut in the attic once they got home after again refusing to wear the dress he'd been put in. He raged for a while, but there didn't seem to be any point. His family didn't seem to care about him anymore, though they hadn't really cared that much before either. He was the crazy one, the one who took after their father. A lost cause, so the doctor said. That made it official, didn't it? What was the point in trying? They didn't care. He existed in a strange limbo where he was present in the house but invisible at the same time, no matter how loudly he screamed. It hurt more than he would ever let on.

He had always known he was different from his siblings. He was the only one with bright blond hair, and more than once he'd been scorned as a bastard child, that his illegitimacy was why he was mad and didn't want to be a girl. He tried not to listen to them, but it still hurt. He didn't even care if it wasn't true. That was never really the point.

He had too many disturbing thoughts running around his head. The eerie laughter of dolls taunted him with menace and pain. He had no way of articulating these thoughts though, and no one was willing to listen. Exhausted, he lay down on the old mattress and cried himself to sleep, unsure how he was supposed to deal with what had just happened to him. Nothing but nightmares haunted his sleep.

He was woken some time later to find his dad sitting beside him. He hadn't said anything, but he was there. He began crying again as his dad brought him into his arms, holding him close. They talked again, speaking their secret language, and the only thing Chris wanted to know was why his mother had done that to him. He never got an answer. His dad stroked his hair softly, and Chris found himself slipping into sleep again, curled into his dad's arms.

* * *

 _Chris' house, Yardley Wood, Birmingham, early September 1958_  
It had been a week since he'd come home from the clinic. His dad had gone away, though, leaving him alone and friendless in a hostile house. His dad was sick again and needed to go to hospital. Chris spent most of his time hiding. It meant his mother couldn't shout at him for being a disappointment.

His brother just hit him every time he saw him, as if he resented the fact he had dared to come back home again from the clinic still behaving like he used to behave. It hadn't fixed him, and it was just another thing he failed at. There was no way Chris was sneaking off with his bass guitar this time. His brother was watching him too closely, keeping him away from his things. Chris had long since stopped crying about being hurt. No one bothered to come and comfort him.

He missed his dad, but his mother wouldn't tell him where he was, so he couldn't go and visit him. She said he might hurt him if he went because he wasn't feeling well. Chris knew she was lying. His dad had never hurt him, even when he'd seen him in hospital before.

Chris hadn't bothered going to school either. His mother didn't seem to care either way. She was too busy fussing over his two elder sisters who were starting their last year at school. His third and eldest sister was starting college too, she'd done better than anyone else in his family, but no one cared about him. They all thought he was a lost cause anyway. Too stupid to get anywhere in life. His mother kept suggesting he'd end up stuck in a home like his father, mad as a hatter and completely useless.

There was too much tension. Chris was well aware he'd outstayed his welcome. The clinic hadn't fixed him, and his continued presence was just making everyone miserable. His mother had stopped forcing him to wear dresses, though, but it was not a sign of acceptance, it was a sign of resignation. His mother had given up. Chris spent the week wearing whatever he wanted and cut his long hair in protest so it was short like his brother's. He tore his dresses to shreds in a fit of rage one night because his mother had told him he was worthless and completely mad like his father. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that, but it was during dinner, his brother had nicked his food, and he was crying for some sort of sympathy that never came.

It was the last straw. If they didn't want him around, he'd leave. Then they wouldn't have another burden to worry about. He'd miss his dad, he knew he would, but what other choice did he have? He didn't belong at home anymore, and his dad couldn't save him.

During the night, when everyone was in bed, he snuck down to the kitchen and ate whatever he could find. It didn't matter that there was never much food to steal. He was always hungry. He'd grown used to stealing food like this as his mother never kept dinner for him if he was missing. If he missed out because he was hiding again, it was his own fault.

Taking some food for later, he snuck into his sisters' room, where he used to sleep, and changed into some boy clothes that he'd taken from his brother some years ago. He packed some of his most prized possessions, such as a few of his favourite books, and his brother's bass guitar as he wasn't sure he could live without it, and went to leave.

He stopped in front of his parents' room. If his dad had been home, he'd have gone to say goodbye, but he was still at the hospital. He wanted to cry then. He didn't want to leave his dad, he really didn't, but his mother had given him no other option. Instead, he slipped into his parents' room and stole his dad's favourite lighter from the dresser. He hoped his dad would forgive him for it, but he couldn't stay any longer. The house was too hostile for a boy like him. Taking one last look at the sleeping house, he fled into the night.

* * *

 _Birmingham, September 1958_  
He went to the hospital in the middle of the city. It was the last place he'd been taken to see his dad, so perhaps that was where he was this time. He found his way to the mental health facility he remembered going to last time and asked at the reception if his dad was staying there. The perplexed night nurse did show him to his room, though, and Chris asked to stay, just for a while.

Left alone, Chris sat by his bed and talked, even though he was asleep. He felt bad about not saying goodbye. Away from his mother and his siblings, he found himself talking about the last week and how things had been. He never really got to talk to anyone about these things, no one except his dad, and he would miss that a lot.

"That you, lad? What're you doing here at this hour?"

Chris looked up as his dad spoke, sitting up a little as he woke up. Chris reached for his hand and the smile faded from his lips. "I can't stay there anymore, dad. I gotta go. They don't want me around anymore."

"That right? Where you going then?"

"Dunno. I just-"

Chris couldn't hold back the tears anymore. He curled up beside his dad and wished he had somewhere safe to live. His dad brought an arm around him and held him close, pressing a soft kiss to his head.

"Poor lad, out there in the cold, hey? You just stay out of trouble. I don't want you ending up in a place like this. I always wanted a better life for you. It destroys you, this does. I'll never get me life back. Maybe one day you'll come back and see me again, hey?"

"I'll come back and see you, I promise. As often as I can. An' I won't go mad, I won't. I don't care what mam says. I ain't mad. She jus' doesn't understand me. She don't understand us," Chris said, wiping his tears away.

Chris stayed there in his dad's arms until the nurse came back and told him he really should leave. She offered to call his mother to come and take him home, but he refused. He didn't want to go home. He said one last goodbye to his dad and left, wiping his tears away with his sleeve.

He wandered the streets. It was cold and windy, and he was hungry, but he didn't want to waste the food he'd taken just yet. He wasn't sure where to go. Lost for other options, he broke into an old house and curled up on the floor under a blanket. He hugged his teddy bear close to his chest, the only comfort he had left. He prayed it would stop him having bad dreams as he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

 _Four Oaks Hall, Four Oaks, Sutton Coldfield, mid-February 1960_  
Chris was thirteen now. He'd decided to call himself Ace, as he wanted a new male name for himself. He'd got the name from a character in one of his brother's comic books. He'd never liked his female name, even though it could be shortened to a perfectly serviceable male name. He didn't want any reminder of his sex. So Ace it was.

By sheer luck and ingenuity, he'd managed to survive on his own for a year and a half, moving from abandoned building to another as he moved north to Sutton. He was thinking of making his way back to Birmingham again, even if it meant he'd be closer to his parents. Maybe he'd find somewhere to live there. Maybe he'd try to find his dad again. He'd promised to come and see him again, and that was not a promise he was going to break. One day he would see him again. One day he'd feel brave enough to go home. He would not go mad and he would not end up like him if he could avoid it.

He'd also stayed in every homeless shelter in Sutton he could find, but he'd never stayed too long. He was too afraid he might get caught up in the system again and sent back to his parents, or to some other large house in the country where they'd torment him as they tried to make him behave. He was running out of options. Something had to give.

The stables were warm, though, up in the loft. He'd been sleeping there most of the winter after discovering a back way in that meant he could sneak in and out without being seen. He'd made his bed behind the straw bales using a stolen blanket to protect him from the scratchy straw. He was getting good at leaving no trace behind, so no one ever knew he was there. He liked listening to the horses as well. He always got on better with animals. He'd never touched them, of course, but he wished one day he could. The stables were part of a large estate, though Ace never let himself look around too much in case he was caught. People lived there, after all. He just wanted to borrow their warm stables until the winter was over.

He always wanted to be warm. He liked being warm. It reminded him of the hugs he used to get from his mother when he was little, before it all went bad. He rarely thought about them now, though. They hadn't come looking, proving his theory that they didn't care about him.

His biggest problem now was that his breasts had begun to show, and he'd had two periods now, though they hadn't been very bad, given how malnourished he was. He'd soaked up the blood with pads made of toilet paper, able to dispose of them and try not to think about what was happening to him. Learning to deal with them was not much fun as he struggled to hide his sex from the world. It disgusted him. He had come to hate looking at his body. It was completely wrong, and he couldn't stop it happeningg. He did his best to hide his breasts with some bandages he'd stolen, but he was never really satisfied with them, and anyway, he knew what they were concealing. He would constantly scratch at the bandages, wishing he didn't have to bind at all.

He felt he almost knew how to cope for when it happened again, but he wished he didn't have to go through it at all. He'd heard enough from his sisters to know what to expect as he grew up, and he dreaded it. He wanted to stop it, to make it go away. He was a boy, and boys don't bleed or have breasts.

He had never told anyone he'd met that he was different, even if he was desperate to tell someone in the hopes they might be able to help him. It was far too shameful to admit his body was wrong, and he didn't have the strength to admit it. It just distressed him, and he had grown skittish about anyone touching him. They might find out his body was wrong, and he didn't want that to happen. It was hard enough being homeless; he didn't need any more trouble.

He hadn't been to school since he'd been at the clinic. He knew he was missing out, even if he'd hated school anyway, but he wasn't in a position to do anything about it. The only thing he could teach himself was how to play the bass he'd taken. He was quite good at it now, and he enjoyed the way it calmed his mind. It didn't sound very good though. He didn't have an amp. But it was all he had. Sometimes, he'd managed to earn a few shillings by sitting on a corner playing his bass, picking out tunes he'd thought of himself as he didn't really know how to play anything else. He wasn't sure they were always rewarding his talent though. Maybe they just felt sorry for him.

In the middle of playing his bass in the loft, he heard someone enter the stables, their footsteps echoing around the place. He paused and hoped they weren't coming near him, which would give him time to sneak out. His heart was racing as those footsteps came towards him. He hadn't thought anyone was around, which was why he was practicing his bass in the first place.

"Who's in there? Where are you hiding?" called a male voice.

Ace froze. Whoever he was, he sounded posh. Ace didn't like that at all. Posh people weren't the sort to mess with. Maybe it was the man who owned the estate. He must be some sort of Lord. Maybe an Earl or a Duke. No way would he tolerate some poor homeless kid sleeping in his stables. Those sort of people never did.

Ace weighed up his options. Trying to escape would make noise. Staying where he was meant he could be seen. But he didn't want to be seen. That would be bad. Quietly, he sunk back against the wall, hoping to remain out of sight as he hugged his knees to his chest. Hopefully, the man would go away and he could escape without being noticed.

"Hello? I know you're in there, I heard you playing. Come out and show yourself," the man called again.

Ace huddled against the wall, scared out of his mind. He was trapped. He was going to get sent to some orphanage, he was sure of it. He very much did not want that at all. He'd heard stories from other street kids about what happened to kids in orphanages and he had decided he'd rather be homeless. The man came into view and looked up at him in surprise. Ace couldn't help shrinking back again, wishing he was elsewhere.

"You there, what are you doing up there?" the man called as he approached. Then he stopped, and moved forward more slowly as he caught sight of his face. His expression softened into hope and disbelief. "Thomas? Is that you? Is it really you?"

The man climbed the ladder towards him, his anger tempered. Ace sat there, unsure what to do. Who was Thomas anyway? The man's head appeared over the edge and he gazed at him with tears in his eyes.

"Oh, Tommy, it is you, isn't it? Only you've been gone for months, we never thought we'd see you again. Your mother's been frantic. Come on, let's get you inside. I can't let you sleep out here," the man said as he approached him and brought him into a hug.

Ace stiffened as the man embraced him, unable to pull away. It had been far too long since someone had hugged him like that, with genuine love and affection. And then he panicked, as he knew perfectly well he was not their son. But the man seemed so genuinely happy to see him, and Ace wasn't sure he wanted to break his heart. He could have a loving family if he played along. And he could be a boy. A proper boy. If he told him he wasn't his son, he could end up anywhere. Posh people could do that to street kids like him. He could disappear into some orphanage or back to some mental asylum and never be seen again. That was not something he wanted to happen to him, so lying it was.

"Dad?" Ace whispered though the word felt strange to say. He hugged him back. It felt comforting. Were hugs supposed to feel like this? If so, he wanted more of them.

"It's okay, son, you're alright now. You're home," the man said, holding him tightly.

Gathering up his things, Ace let his new dad carry him back to the main house, wondering if he'd made the right decision. He'd have to pull this off without getting caught. How on earth was he going to do that? But he decided to think about that later as he clutched onto him and cried, hoping he would give him a home.

Ace had never seen a house so big before, but he didn't have time to look around before his new mother was hugging him tight, and Ace couldn't think of a single thing to say. He just hoped they would love him and accept him for who he was. That's really all he wanted, wasn't it? It was all he ever wanted from his mother.

They fussed over him and sent him off to be cleaned and dressed. He had his hair cut and he was dressed in some very nice posh clothes. He'd asked to wash and dress himself, though, so he could hide the bandages from the servant sent to help him. He didn't like people touching him, and the servant backed off immediately, unwilling to disobey his master's orders. Ace was pleased by that and he felt like a prince. For the first time in his life, he had real power. And then his new parents hugged him again and he ate the most wonderful meal he'd ever tasted.

They asked him all sorts of questions about where he'd been, and he gave his best dazed and confused performance and called up memories of the clinic to make it seem like he was all properly traumatised. Which he was, but he wasn't really able to admit that in so many words. They chided him for his common accent, but he could tell it was half-hearted. Ace figured they were just happy to have their son back, even if he sounded common. He'd have to work on that. Can't be a posh boy who sounds like a common street kid, even if that's what he really was.

He was so tired he fell straight to sleep afterwards. He barely had time to look around his new bedroom before he was drifting off. His new mother Sandra sat by his bed, stroking his hair softly as she sung to him. He noticed she had beautiful blonde hair like he did that fell past her shoulders. Ace reached for her hand and she held it gently, reassuringly. Clutching his teddy bear, which he'd insisted on keeping, he prayed to any god that would listen to let him have a family that loved him at last. He didn't know how long he'd be able to last in this big house, and he wanted to enjoy it while he could. Opportunities like that didn't come around every day. The gods had blessed him, and he wasn't going to waste it.

* * *

 _Four Oaks Hall, Four Oaks, Sutton Coldfield, August 1960_  
Ace had been living as Thomas for seven and a half months. The doctor who had come to check him out soon after he'd arrived hadn't twigged he was really a girl, but he had advised therapy for the traumatised child. Ace wasn't sure he wanted more therapy, but he wasn't sure he was in a position to refuse. There was a point where, left alone with the doctor for a moment, Ace nearly confessed everything, hoping to beg the doctor into helping turn him into a boy, but he was too afraid of being thrown out so he said nothing. The doctor might not know how to help him either, or just try to fix him again, so what was the point?

He'd also just had a birthday. He'd even had a birthday party. That was a novel experience. He'd never had a birthday party before. He was apparently eleven now, rather than a few months off fourteen years old. Ace secretly appreciated it. He'd bought himself some extra time to practice a deeper voice as he got older as he wasn't very good at it yet. He had a party, with presents and a few boys he was apparently friends with. That they didn't even twig he wasn't the same boy astounded him. He must've looked stunningly similar to Thomas if even his friends didn't notice the difference, and any oddities in his behaviour could be put down to trauma from when he went missing.

He'd still never articulated a reason for why he'd gone missing either, other than that he had been kidnapped, and taken far away up north, and spent a long time homeless as he tried to find his way home again. Why he'd been sleeping in the stables was down to confusion as to where he was and that he didn't want to show his face when he looked so awful. It was believable enough and no one wanted to distress the poor child, so they let him be.

It turned out his new father, Charles, was an Earl, the sixth Earl of Carhampton, and Ace had his own titles to get used to, being his son and all. It was a strange experience, taking in all the family history in the big house that wasn't really his. Some parts he hated. The long hall with the family portraits in it scared him. All those dead people with piercing eyes. Ace felt they saw right through his disguise and they'd come and chase him away one day.

He still cherished every moment he had with his new parents, though. They did seem to love him dearly, and while he hated having to go to therapy, it was worth it if he got a family who cared. He had lucked out and had a therapist who didn't seem to want to harass him, but instead treated him like a human being and just let him talk, reassuring him anything he said would not leave the room. Ace still didn't feel comfortable talking about his gender, he didn't dare in case he was caught out, but he talked about everything else, mixing vague memories with nightmares to concoct a story that was convincing enough to pass. It was the first time he'd ever had a chance to try and digest what had happened to him at the clinic, and while he never said that in as many words, talking to her did help. She helped him sort through it and gradually, the nightmares dissipated and the memories lost their power.

Being the son of an Earl was a life he struggled to get used to. He was often alone, just like he was at home. His new father would go away a lot, always going away to London, and his mother worked in London as well. She said she was working at a hospital there. Ace would be left in the care of his nanny if his mother wasn't around to care for him. This wasn't something he liked, but his nanny did grant him some sympathy. It was just how things were done, he was told, and it didn't mean his parents loved him any less either. Ace didn't really like this state of affairs, but his nanny did read stories to him too, and slowly, he grew to like her and her company.

Still, it did leave him alone, or with very few people, in a very big house, and he did not like that as much as he'd fantasised he would. The loneliness he felt at home came back here too, and he became clingy as he sought any human company at all, even if they were servants. Not even all the books in their very vast library could defeat his loneliness.

He also had tutors come every day to teach him things since he had convinced them he wasn't ready for school just yet. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for school. He'd found his old school hard enough, and they would only give him a basic education, if that; what chance did he have at a proper Public school with all sorts of other posh kids? It was too daunting for him to cope with, so he took lessons at home. He struggled with the work as he tried to conceal how much he didn't know.

He had several tutors, one for each subject he was being taught. He preferred the ones who would take the time to go through things with him when he said he didn't know what to do, not the ones who just hit his hands with a ruler and shouted at him that he was being useless and stupid, that he'd been taught those things already. The nice ones made the bad ones bearable; at least someone cared enough to nurture his mind. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to cope if they'd all been mean to him. He never cried though. He'd long stopped crying when he was hurt. No one had ever come to comfort him before when he was hurt so what was the point?

His literacy had suffered while he'd been homeless, but it was gradually improving. He was reading much harder books now, and he didn't always understand the big words or what they meant. Some of the work he had to do wasn't even in English. Apparently the real Thomas had been learning Latin, and every time Ace looked at it, he felt like the words meant absolutely nothing at all and were nothing more than strange collections of letters someone thought looked nice. He didn't understand any of it, and his Latin tutor was constantly frustrated at his inability to learn, but he was one of the nice ones, and didn't berate him. Instead, they sat together in the library, and with some hot chocolate and cookies, they would go over verb tables and syntax together, and Ace slowly improved. No one was more surprised than Ace at how much it helped him with English. Things clicked in his head, and for once, he didn't feel quite as stupid as he usually did.

He was taking music lessons too, cello and piano. He was only allowed to keep playing his old bass guitar if he took on proper music lessons as well. He didn't mind this when he had his first cello lesson; the sound of the cello was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, and he sat there in tears as the music swelled around him. He learnt things about music he had never known before, and he began writing his own music, writing out all the songs in his head he'd thought of before while he was out on the streets. He hadn't counted on it being as therapeutic as it was, which just made him want to continue.

He only had time to himself at night when he would lie in bed, going over the titles he had in his head. He was trying to convince himself they now belonged to him. He had three titles, and the highest title was Viscount- Viscount something or other. He'd never heard of it before, and it was essentially meaningless. Still, he liked that he had power now. He wasn't a worthless, powerless street kid. He was a goddamn Viscount. He would take the Earldom when his father died. He didn't spend much time thinking about the responsibilities of that though. That would come later, assuming he was still able to pull this off by then. He had to know things about politics, but he didn't much like that though; he thought it was boring. But not everything he had to learn was boring, so it wasn't that bad. And it did mean he got to spend time with his father as they talked about what went on in Parliament.

Ace had got used to his father's detached and gruff manner. He didn't coddle him like his mother did, but he still loved him in his own way. They spent most of their time together in the library, where his father would educate him about politics and history. He was expected to follow his father into politics, most of his family had been politicians, but his father wasn't so cruel as to insist upon it if he really had other interests he wished to pursue. Ace was certainly more interested in music than politics, and they sometimes talked about that too.

His father would read all sorts of books to him on all sorts of topics. Ace did eventually convince him to read novels and books on old mythology to him too. Ace wasn't so interested in the political books at first, but he got to sit up with his father by the fire in the library and he came to enjoy them. He didn't like them as much as the fiction books, but his father had a way of keeping his attention even when he was talking about boring things.

Sometimes Ace would read to him too. Ace didn't want to read out loud to his father at first, he wasn't that confident in his reading skills, but he encouraged him to tackle the big words and help him understand what he was reading about. Of course it wasn't the same as being with his real dad; there were no magical stories or quiet times or secret languages. But he hugged Ace the same way his dad used to do, ruffled his hair, and praised him when he'd done well. It was enough to know his father was proud of him.

In between all his lessons, he still left the house from time to time. His mother took him down to London more than once, and took him to plays, concerts, galleries and museums. He did find these more interesting as his education improved, and London was immense and exciting anyway. He met all sorts of people and had access to places he'd never have seen if he'd stayed a street kid. He was even learning to talk proper as well, so he sounded like a proper posh boy would. He still slipped every now and then, but as his nanny had a similar accent, he could just say he'd picked it up from her. It was a convenient excuse.

That everyone accepted him as a boy brought him significant relief. He met all sorts of people, even kids he was supposed to be going to school with, and they all believed him. They all accepted he was who he said he was. In some ways, he didn't mind at all. He had wanted a new identity anyway, one that didn't remind him of his old family. Well, he'd certainly got that. Part of him worried about his body, that it still wasn't right, but he could insist on privacy now and it would be obeyed, so no one ever caught him binding or bleeding. He'd learnt to conceal these things well enough that no one suspected a thing.

If there was one thing being an Earl's son allowed him to do, it was visit his real father without anyone noticing or caring. He had called the last hospital he'd seen his father in and told them to call him when he was admitted so he could go see him. He didn't want to see the rest of his family, but he did still want to see his father, like he promised. It seemed to be the only way he could manage it. He'd already thought of a cover story should they question where he was living now, but it proved unnecessary. He got the call and headed over, hoping to spend some time with him.

He wasn't so good this time, more out of it than he had been before. He didn't speak, didn't really recognise the boy before him, and Ace just sat there, holding his hand gently, hoping he'd manage to avoid the same fate. He didn't stay long. He didn't want to see his dad like that. Still, he slipped a few quid into his dad's wallet, so maybe he could buy the rest of his family something nice. Sitting there by his bedside, he felt a little guilty for all the privilege he had now, and remembering where he'd come from made him unwilling to withold it from them, even if he hadn't particularly liked most of his family anyway. He would never go and see them, but that was never the point.

He went home after that visit and began writing down all the stories his dad had told him when he was a kid. He wanted to be able to read them to his dad, to remind him who he was. It seemed like a strange obsession to his mother, but she didn't stop him. Ace just kept writing, determined not to forget all the magic his dad had told him about.

* * *

 _Moseley Grammar School, Moseley, Birmingham, late April, 1961_  
Bev was willing to admit he hadn't been the most attentive student in his year, and apart from the few subjects they were any good at, he and Jasper had spent their time at school competing to see which of them would be bottom of their class as if it was some sort of rebellion against the strict school rules. Bev wasn't necessarily always disruptive in class either. He did sometimes behave even if he did have other things on his mind, but it was hard to resist when he didn't like the teacher and the teacher didn't like him either.

He had taken a rather lax attitude to attendance too, bunking off in the afternoon perhaps more than necessary. It was hardly his fault there were far more interesting things he'd rather be doing. He was far more interested in being in a band anyway. Rock music was far more fun than school. Going on to college and university, unlike most of the boys in his class, just wasn't that important. You didn't need a degree to be in a band.

He was nearly finished with school anyway. In a few months, he could leave and never come back. Unable to care enough about his classes, he decided he couldn't be bothered going in his uniform that morning. Fuck the school's strict uniform code. It hadn't been planned for that particular day, but Bev had woken that morning and decided he'd had enough of his school uniform for a lifetime. None of the students cared, though none of them seemed to care enough to deliberately disobey them like he was about to do.

He'd tell his friends later that afternoon that he'd spent ages preparing, but that was a bit of a lie. He already had most of what he needed, and it was surprisingly easy to convince his mother to fix his blazer so it looked right. His mother sometimes worried he was courting trouble by bringing so much attention to himself, but Bev had learnt how to get by. Sure, he did get pushed around a bit in his first year, but he'd learnt to push back, and they soon left him alone. Anyway, being in a band was cool. No one was willing to disrespect him for that.

Bev had flouted the uniform code a few times before, but he'd done it more subtly and not so outrageously, if only out of laziness and because, well, some of the other boys did it too. He just didn't think he had anything to lose now, so the only parts of his uniform he was actually wearing was his blazer and his school cap. He'd dressed up like a true rock'n'roller, because he'd rather wear that uniform than his school one. He thought his shirt with tiger print around the collar was particularly cool. He wanted to leave Moseley Grammar in style.

To his credit, he had arrived on time, but he was more interested in making a show of it so he'd waited until he was fashionably late before lazily strolling in through the Prefects gate, nonchalantly wheeling his bike as he went. He was surprised he got as far as he did before a teacher stopped him. Bev delighted in the anger on his face as he told him not to come back until he was dressed properly. Bev was more than happy to oblige. He waved to the cheering boys who'd gathered around to watch as he left, pleased to have the day off school. And perhaps the next day too, depending on when he felt like putting his uniform on properly.

* * *

 _Four Oaks Hall, Four Oaks, Sutton Coldfield, May 1961_  
Everything seemed to be going fine. More than fine. Ace was finally progressing with his lessons to the point where he didn't get berated all the time. His tutors' persistence had paid off, even the mean ones, and he was getting somewhere. He was expected to go to college too, and university, a prospect he had never even considered before. He didn't need a job, so he could do almost anything he wanted. He still didn't really know what to do with that thought. He didn't think he had the imagination to do it justice.

He almost felt ready to attempt going to school as well, though he insisted on keeping at least the nice tutors around to help him if he needed it. Being away from school for so long, he felt he'd need all the help he could get if he was going to do well and adjust to being around all those posh boys. He was nearly twelve, though, well, Thomas was nearly twelve, and he'd bought himself an extra year to prepare. He was about to do his entrance exams. Sure, he'd finish a year later than everyone else, but he'd been traumatised, it was the perfect excuse, and the school had been lenient enough to let him attempt them a year late. He'd gone from a family of seven to a family of three. He was an only child now, with all his parents' attention and love. Like they weren't going to stop him if that's what he needed.

So when he went down to breakfast one morning to find his parents distraught and upset, he wasn't sure what to think. Ace couldn't help thinking his cover had been blown, and that they were upset he had been pretending to be their son. He hadn't wanted to upset them like that at all, and he hoped something else was wrong. It had been too long, he'd passed so successfully til now, that it was hard to believe his cover was blown. He tried not to let his apprehension show, though. Perhaps something else was wrong. Maybe he was safe.

"Mum? Dad? Is everything alright?" Ace said as he approached them.

His new mother, her name was Sandra, didn't look at him as she spoke. "They found his body this morning in the woods, hacked into pieces. My poor darling child."

Ace didn't reply immediately as he took in the news. He stood there awkwardly, knowing they knew he was an impostor. There didn't seem to be much point in pretending he was their son any longer. He scuffed a foot against the floor as he spoke.

"Oh. 'm so sorry to hear that. I-I 'spose... I suppose I'd best be off then. Leave you to grieve in peace. Jus'- I jus' wanted a family who loved me, that's all. I never wanted to hurt you. Sorry if I caused you any pain."

Sandra looked up at him then. "No, please don't go. I don't want to lose you too, whoever you are. Please, just stay for a while."

Ace looked at them, confused. He found it impossible to conceal his broad accent any longer. "Why would you want me to stay? I'm not your son. I'm not even a real boy. When you found me, I'd been sleeping rough for over a year. Ran away from me home cos me own family never loved me. All I wanted was a family who cared, and you seemed to care, even if you did think I was someone else. You let me be a boy too, like I've always wanted to be, and I can't thank you enough for that. I didn't mean to deceive you, though. I just panicked and you were offering me a nice house an' ev'rything. But it isn't mine and I should go now. But it was nice of you to let me stay for a while. I'll never forget your kindness."

Sandra went over to him and embraced him, holding him tightly. "I don't care what you are, I want you to stay. Please. I've already lost one son today. I don't want to lose another."

Ace stiffened, but did hug her back. He wasn't sure why they seemed to care. He'd pretended to be their son. His position didn't look good at all. When it got out that he was pretending to be their son, surely they would just assume he'd murdered him and taken his place to con his parents out of their money. He'd be defenceless if that happened. No one would believe him and he'd end up in some sort of prison, or maybe even hanged. You could hang for killing a posh kid, couldn't you? Posh people were like that. Instinctively, he clutched onto her tightly, hoping they wouldn't get him into trouble. He didn't want to die a murderer.

"I don't understand. Why would you care? I'm just a street kid who deceived you into thinking I was your son. An' now he's dead and I'll get the blame, I know I will. An' I never did it. I never even met him in me life, I swear. They'll never believe I was just sleeping in the stables cos it was warm. I'll get sent away, I'll have to run away again, sleep out there in the cold streets. Please don't let them take me away. I miss me dad so much, but I can't go home, they never wanted me there, and me dad's crazy anyway so I can't stay with him. I got nowhere else to go," Ace said, afraid of what might happen to him.

"It's alright, I don't believe you had anything to do with it. You seem too nice for that. Just stay with us. We'll sort it out, alright? We have plenty of money. We can help you," Sandra said.

Ace pulled away and stood there like a servant, his head bowed. He knew his place. "I'll work in yer stables, yer Ladyship, if you like. I liked them horses. That's all I'm good for. I'm really fourteen, you know. Been outta school too long. I'm too stupid for school anyway. I'm half-mad like me dad, spent me life trying to be a boy, ripping off every dress I was put in. I'm more trouble than I'm worth. You should let me go. They tried to fix me once and didn't manage it. Don't bother trying again. I don't know if there's any way to help me. Don't know if anyone'd wanna help me anyway."

She brought him close, stroking his hair gently. "It doesn't matter. None of that matters. I can never have another child, so you're all I've got left now that Thomas is gone. Let us help you. I don't think I could bear the thought of you sleeping out there again."

Ace pulled away, reluctantly leaving her embrace. The more he let her hold him, the less he wanted to leave, and he knew he needed to leave. "No, I wouldn't want to be a burden, 'specially seeing as I look like yer boy an' all. I never wanted to upset you, but I ain't never had parents who loved me like you have since I been here, and for that I'm grateful. You're nice an' all, but I should go. I don't belong here."

Sandra reached for his hands and drew him close. "You wanted a family, didn't you? One that loved you? Why can't you let us be that family? You don't have to be Thomas anymore, just be our son."

Ace just looked at her again, conflicted. He quickly wiped his tears away. For a moment, he wanted to stay, but he could feel the eyes of the ancestral paintings on the wall staring at him, as if they knew full well he didn't belong and were taking their chance to chase him away. He stepped back from her and turned away. He had to leave. He didn't belong in this big house any longer.

"m sorry, but I have to go. I'm common as mud, I can't speak properly, I'm not very bright, I'm not even all that pretty, an' I've spent my whole life trying to be a boy when everyone else expects me to be a girl. I'm mad, me mam always said I was mad like me dad. I'd just be a burden an' you don't need that. I don't belong in a family like this, nice as you are. Why would you want someone like me anyway? I'm a lost cause, the doctor said so all them years ago, an' all because I've always known I was 'sposed to be a boy, but I was born a girl, and now me body does things I don't want it to do and I got all these bad memories in me 'ead, and sometimes I can't sleep right. I'm growing up in the wrong body and no one knows how to help me, to make it stop. The best doctor in the country couldn't help me. I don't see why you could do better than him," Ace said. He gazed at his feet, ashamed to be admitting so much to them.

Sandra looked over to her husband. "Charles, please, I don't care if he's not our son. We have to try and help him."

Charles got to his feet and came over to them. He looked at Ace, who shrunk from his gaze, wishing he were anywhere else but there. "How are we going to deal with this? Our son, our own son, needs to be buried properly. We can't pass this girl off as our son now. No one would buy that, not after they know he's dead and buried. Besides, she's a girl. Someone's bound to notice eventually. We can't keep her here any longer. I understand your concern, but she's not our son. Our own son deserves a respectful burial and then we have to let her go. I just can't see how this will work. They'll know she's a girl and I'll be embarrassed."

"He's a boy, he said so himself. It doesn't matter what his body looks like. We can change that. I know people who can do that. Don't send him out onto the streets again, not after all this time. People know him now. They know him as Thomas. They'd notice he was gone and you'd still be without an heir. I'm not going to let you send him away. I'm not going to let him go again," Sandra said, wrapping an arm around Ace protectively.

It wasn't an argument Charles was going to win. Depriving his wife of a son, and himself of an heir, put himself in a very difficult position. If the boy hadn't already established himself as their son, he might have let him go, but she was right. They couldn't just get rid of him now. He'd been with them too long.

"Alright. She-He can stay. But no one knows about this. I'll arrange for our son to be buried discretely in the family crypt. You will let me honour him that much, won't you? I'll leave it to you to work out how to turn him into a boy properly. See if you can turn him into a respectable son that society won't shun," Charles said.

Ace didn't particularly like the tone of his voice, but he wasn't going to complain. He clung onto Sandra, still worried this was never going to last. She held him tight and Ace wondered if he'd be able to live up to everything they wanted - needed - him to be.


	2. Teenage Wildlife 1962-1966

_Beehive Department Store, Birmingham, January 1962_  
For a job straight out of school, selling carpets wasn't such a bad job. It wasn't that being in a band wasn't paying the bills either, but in spite of their hectic date sheet, Denny Laine and the Diplomats were hardly breaking even yet either, nor were they able to turn professional just yet. Bev needed every penny to pay for his shots so he'd taken a proper job out of necessity. He'd come to an agreement with his mother that once he left school, he had to pay for his own hormone injections. She'd still support him, and she had shelled out for his shots a couple of times when he was short, but it was his responsibility now. Bev didn't mind, and it seemed like a fair enough deal. Besides, his best mate Jasper had a job in another department in the same store, allowing them to have more than a little fun when they got together. Like that foolproof Christmas scam they pulled to earn a bit more cash because Santa was too drunk to notice what they were doing. It made it bearable while he waited to turn pro.

Bev was quite pleased no one had pegged him as a girl. He wasn't surprised; it's not like he really looked like one either, tall and muscular as he was. Still, there was always that fear in the back of his mind that someone would work it out, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Jasper knew, of course, but he was sensible enough to keep his mouth shut about that particular issue.

Girls were another issue altogether. It wasn't that Bev didn't like them. Bev was quite keen on girls and he'd had a few in his time, though they were never serious enough to bother coming out to so he'd never bothered. He and Jasper had managed to compile a cover story that was at least plausible so girls didn't freak out when he took them to bed and discovered he was a little insufficient downstairs. Surprisingly, they never seemed to mind, and Bev quite enjoyed himself. He had discretely acquired a couple of toys he could use if they wanted sex so at least they both felt comfortable with the situation. He made sure to remain on good enough terms with them so that they wouldn't disclose his secret to the world.

And it wasn't even that he didn't want to be outed either. Well. _Of course_ , he didn't want to be outed, but he was confident enough in his own life and identity that it never felt like he had some sort of deep dark secret. It was just something he kept to himself. Given how people had seemed to understand why he'd done what he'd done once they knew, he felt no guilt about it. People were stupidly sentimental about looking after family. It seemed to be able to justify doing almost anything, even becoming a boy when you were ten years old. They didn't need to know the real story.

* * *

 _Carl's house, Castle Bromwich, Birmingham, April 1962_  
Things had changed so very quickly in a year. Ace had begun taking low doses of testosterone to begin his transformation into a proper boy, and while he would have to wait until he was at least sixteen - he'd never worked out if that was his actual age or Thomas' age - before he got his breasts removed, he was mostly content. Being treated as a boy fulltime brought him much relief, and he could focus on other things now that he knew things were going as planned. One day, he would look like a boy, no matter how long it took.

He had finally started school as well, at a Public School some distance away in Warwickshire. He wasn't a boarder, he had managed to talk his parents out of that particular option, so he would be taken there and picked up every day. He was beginning to enjoy it too, as all the tutoring he'd had made the subjects he was taking far less daunting. Still challenging, but at least he felt he could attempt them rather than just shy away in fear, berating himself for his stupidity. He wanted to prove he could do it.

He'd even made a couple of friends. They weren't friends at school; he was too much of an eccentric loner for that, but he didn't mind. No, they were local kids he met in central Birmingham one night. They played guitars and drums and the sort of music Ace had come to really, really like, in spite of his mother's protestations at how awful it sounded. Still, she hadn't explicitly banned him from listening to it, just that he had to keep the noise down. Ace felt this was a fair enough compromise, and it fuelled his desire to play bass again. While he had kept up with his piano and cello lessons, bass had always come first, and he would sit in his room, playing along to his records as he tried to pick out the bass lines. He had a new guitar anyway, and a nice amp, but he did turn the sound down so he didn't deafen his mother. He felt all he needed now was a band. And he'd finally found one.

He'd become quite fond of going into Birmingham on weekends to see bands playing, just for a change of scenery from a stuffy old house and posh boys who had no idea what it was like to go without. It was nice to be amongst normal people who didn't have everything he had. It reminded him of how lucky he'd been. He wasn't allowed out during weeknights, he had schoolwork to do, but he was allowed to go on his own once he's promised Sandra he'd go as common-as-mud Ace and tell everyone he was fifteen, not twelve, which did convince Sandra to let him go. He wasn't complaining at all, even if it did hurt his head as he tried to work out whether he was really just going as himself, or as Thomas pretending to be someone else.

It didn't take him long to find where the bands hung out after their gigs. Sure, he ended up being out late, but the Pie Stand had good food, and good company. After hanging around long enough, getting to know everyone, he'd been invited to join a band. They were called Carl Wayne and the Vikings, and they needed a bassist, and Ace was more than willing to prove he could do it, even if he'd never been in a band before.

One of his friends was Carl Wayne, the singer of the group he'd joined. Sure, he got on well enough with the others, but he liked Carl the best. Carl was decent to him. He liked him a lot, and it was strange to find himself trusting him. Ace wasn't used to trusting anyone in case they found out his body was wrong and wanted to try and fix him. But Carl seemed different. Ace wouldn't have exactly called it understanding, but there was just something that put him at ease, something that said Carl was safe. It was a nice feeling, and Ace wasn't willing to do anything to jeopardise that.

Sandra hadn't been particularly keen on him joining a band, but he promised he'd take care of himself and not jeopardise his studies. So determined not to lose the band, he was more diligent about his school work than he'd ever thought he'd be, and it showed in his grades. He was actually passing his subjects, and passing relatively well. It was a strange feeling, as at his old school, back when he was living at home with his large noisy family and a mother who didn't like him, he'd done nothing but fail. It boosted his confidence immensely, and he felt like he had something of a future ahead of him that didn't involve a dead-end job or a life spent in a madhouse.

Ace often stayed overnight with Carl after their gigs, especially on the weekend. Ace wasn't able to play all of them, he was still only supposed to be twelve years old, but Sandra did understand he wasn't really that young, and let him get away with it. Juggling the two personas wasn't always easy, but as the two social circles didn't really mix at all, it was safe enough.

They'd arrived back after another gig and fell into bed together, exhausted but happy. While still keeping his body hidden, Ace was nonetheless enjoying himself immensely. Carl had proved to be a fine friend, and they had bonded over Carl's terrible bass playing. Ace had told him if he was going to pick up his instrument, he should at least know how to play it properly and sat him down to teach him.

Ace still didn't quite know why he trusted Carl so much, but Carl had proved to be protective and loyal, keeping him out of trouble. Carl cared about him, and Ace couldn't help responding to that care. Carl seemed to know what was best for him, and if Carl told him not to drink too much because it'd wreck his head, Ace, for some unfathomable reason, did as he was told. That he didn't particularly like what alcohol did to his head also helped. He'd almost come out to the rest of the Vikings one night when he'd had a few drinks, and that fear kept him sober to ensure it didn't happen again.

If Ace had any quirks, it was that he'd begun chewing gum incessantly, as if he couldn't live without at least one compulsion. It seemed to be a harmless enough habit, though. He felt it made up for the fact he'd started smoking. It wasn't something Carl had encouraged, but he hadn't told him not to either. He thought it looked cool anyway, and he liked being able to use his dad's lighter at last. He just had to remember to hide it from his parents at home or they'd think he'd turned into some sort of delinquent. Never mind that half the older boys at his school smoked anyway. That was never the point. He was still twelve, for all intents and purposes. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Carl had his arm around him then, bringing him close. Ace wasn't sure how long they'd been sharing a bed, but it was nice to be close to him. It wasn't even that they were lovers either, nor would it matter if they were. Ace just appreciated his companionship. It was nice having a friend near to his own age who wasn't part of his parents' world. Someone normal like he was who didn't judge him.

And then, without saying anything, Carl cupped his cheek and brought him into a kiss, soft, unhurried, and gentle. Ace didn't pull away, but he was surprised. No one had ever kissed him before, not like that. He'd always been too scared and ashamed at his body to try. He became aware of just how close they were then, pressed together as they lay on the bed. Ace's fear of intimacy reared its ugly head as Carl stroked his arm gently and kissed him again, and he pulled away, panicked and scared.

"N-no, I can't. Please, just-" Ace stopped, unable to find the right words.

Carl sat up, a concerned look on his face. "Hey, it's okay, I'm not trying to hurt you."

"I-I can't. I mean, I like you, I do, but I just ... there are things you don't know about me, and I don't know if I'm ready to tell you yet," Ace said.

"Look, if you're not into guys, that's fine with me. I can accept I misread things between us. You're still welcome to the spare room, you know, as long as you like," Carl said.

"It's not that. I just - I have other problems. It's hard to talk about. You'd keep quiet if I told you, wouldn't you?" Ace said, unsure if he really could trust him.

"It's okay, I can keep secrets. I have some of my own to keep as well. It's not like anyone knows about me. I promise it'll never leave this room," Carl said, and Ace believed him.

Ace sat up, wondering where to begin. He tried to find the right words, but there didn't seem to be any words at all that seemed to be able to articulate what he wanted to say. As he sat there in silence, deep in thought, it occurred to him that it might be better to show him rather than try and find the right words. It'd save him from being misunderstood, and he didn't want to be misunderstood, not with something this important.

Ace spoke tentatively. "Jus' - I ain't never showed this to anyone before, and I don't really know how to explain it either. Jus'-"

Ace stopped, unsure how to continue. Unsure if he even wanted to continue. But then Carl patted his arm reassuringly and Ace felt like if he was going to come out to someone, Carl was probably the best person to come out to. Still nervous, he began undressing. It wasn't til Carl saw the bandages wrapped around his chest that he began to understand what he was trying to tell him. Ace sat there naked, his female body exposed to him. Without the clothes to hide everything, his sex was abundantly clear, from the small but obviously female breasts to the fuller figure.

Ace covered his face in shame, not wanting to look at his body. The downside to a stable home and a proper diet was his body had begun developing a lot faster, and his periods had become much worse. It made him reconsider going back on the streets again. At least he didn't bleed so badly there. Sure, he had got used to coping, and the testosterone had lessened them a little bit, but he still bled, and it still caused him distress every time it happened.

There were few effects from the testosterone yet, as they were trying to give him a proper male puberty, rather than rush it all at once. The low dose hadn't done much apart from lower his voice a little and take the female edge off his face a bit. Hardly noticeable, though it didn't quite make him look fifteen either. Still, there wasn't much he could do about that. Thomas was more important than Ace in the grand scheme of things. He'd just have to cope with being eccentric and hope no one minded too much.

"I never would've guessed, you know. You alright? I'm sorry if I've distressed you at all. You didn't have to tell me," Carl said.

"Don't kick me out. Don't hurt me. This is all I've ever wanted, to be a boy and to be in a band. I can't lose that now. No one'd have me. I need this. Please. Don't tell anyone," Ace said.

Carl touched his shoulders and caught his gaze. Ace flinched and pulled away, scared it was all going to end badly. At least he hadn't been shouted at or beaten. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

"Ace. Look at me. I don't care. I'm queer. It's not like I don't have my own secrets either. You say you're really a boy? I believe you. If you don't want to get together, that's alright too. You're not ready for that yet anyway. Besides, if I kick you out, I'd have to play bass, and you know how terrible I am at that. You're too popular to get rid of."

Ace smiled a little at that. It was nice to be appreciated, and he did like being popular. Having hundreds of girls clamouring after him was flattering, even if it was scary. It had also made him question his sexuality. While he did quite like girls, more than a few boys had also caught his eye, but his fear of intimacy had made him question whether he'd even want to get with anyone at all if given the choice. He also wondered if he'd just managed to talk himself into liking girls just because it was expected of him. If he was a boy, he should like girls. That was how it worked, wasn't it? He'd never been with anyone before anyway, so it was a purely intellectual question as far as he was concerned. Maybe one day he'd feel brave enough to let someone touch him. Maybe one day, he'd know for sure.

Carl brought him into a hug, just holding him gently. "I wish I knew how to help you. But listen to me, okay? I don't care what your body looks like. You're an amazing bassist and I want you in my band."

"'m not that good, not really, but thanks for giving me a chance. No one ever did that to me before. I feel like an idiot most of the time. I never did finish school, y'know," Ace murmured.

"You didn't miss much, trust me. You're still young, you know. Plenty of time to make up the difference if it's bothering you that much," Carl said.

Ace shrugged. "You need money for all that shit, though, and I ain't got any. Seems weird, banking everything on the band, but what else can I do? It's all I'm good at. You'll look after me, won't you? I haven't got anyone else. People keep rejecting me. It's not fair. What'd I ever do to end up like this?"

"As I said, there'll always be a bed for you here if you need it. And lay off the drinking, and anything else you might be tempted to take. I'm no shrink, but you've got a fragile mind. You don't need that shit. You've got enough to deal with without adding that shit to it, yeah?" Carl said.

Ace nodded in agreement. "I need help, but I don't know where to go to get it. I don't know if they'd even treat someone like me. How can I survive this madness?"

Carl hugged him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You just concentrate on not going mad and I'll make sure you've got food in yer belly, a bed to sleep in, and some money in yer pockets. We'll be famous one day, just you wait, and then you'll be able to buy all the help you need."

"I hope so, because I don't know how much longer I can last."

Ace wasn't totally lying, not really. He hadn't wanted to admit he was having treatment yet as it might give away how he was affording that at all, given he was pretending to be common. He did appreciate what he had, but he was still aware he had a very long way to go before he looked like a proper boy. He hoped he would last long enough to see it happen.

* * *

 _Robin Hood Cinemas, Birmingham, May, 1962_  
Her name was Janine, as far as Bev could remember. She wasn't the first he'd taken out, and probably wouldn't be the last either. Being in a band was a great way of scoring dates with pretty girls, and there were plenty of them around. Just like the girls he used to watch on screen when he was younger, he had them in his arms now, and they found a spare spot in the back row together, paying little attention to the film that was showing.

They were towards the middle. Bev liked being punctual for this reason, otherwise they'd have other couples walking past them all the time. But he wasn't paying any attention to them, and they weren't paying any attention to him. That was just how things were.

She had lovely dark hair that fell seductively past her shoulders, and her eyes were stunning. Bev was well aware of this as it was pretty much all he could see. They'd shifted as close together as they could, and Bev wasted no time in kissing her. She wasn't as sweet as she looked, and Bev didn't mind at all. Sure, there was only so much they could get away with in the cinema, but that never stopped anyone testing those boundaries.

She was actually pretty tall too, but that just meant he didn't have to bend so much. She stifled a laugh as Bev whispered to her, adding his own spectacular commentary on the film they hadn't really been paying attention to. She had shifted to his lap by then, and Bev had more to explore, able to touch almost all of her body as they sat there together in the dark.

They didn't stay for the second show. Bev had invited her back to his place, and she'd said yes. Leaving the dark cinema, Bev drove them both home.

* * *

 _Bev's house, Sparkhill, Birmingham, May 1962_  
With only a cursory greeting to his mother, Bev took Janine upstairs. They kissed again before Bev shut the door behind them. Bev was freer to explore, and he'd explained his situation on the way, so she knew he was a little insufficient downstairs. She just thought it would be a nice challenge. Bev had a good track record of picking girls who didn't mind. It made him worry less about being rejected.

They kissed against the door, and she wrapped a leg around his body, bringing him close. He was more interested in kissing a trail down her chest, finally able to get under her clothes. He undressed her slowly, taking in every inch of her skin. She was the one who asked him to move between her legs, and he needed little encouragement. He liked showing off his skills to girls, and it always made things go better.

She tangled her fingers in his hair as he sucked on her clit, swirling his tongue around the small bud. She was already wet, and Bev stroked her with his fingers, thrusting gently. She didn't take long to come, and she pulled on his hair as she leant against the door. Bev lingered a little longer, tasting her with his tongue. She squirmed at the sensation, and her body tensed. Bev stood then, and kissed her, a hand still teasing her.

"Shall we?" Bev murmured against her neck.

"You'd better," she murmured back.

They shifted to the bed, and Bev finished undressing, taking a moment to tie his cock on. It wasn't perfect, but he'd had no complaints so far. He must be doing something right. She lay back, and he spent a moment preparing before pushing inside her. Sure, it wasn't a real cock, but the extra lubrication was useful.

He always started slow, just so they could find their own rhythm. She didn't want him to rush, so he kept it slow, kissing her in between thrusts. They switched positions, with Bev sat up against the bedhead as she lowered herself down onto him. She was free to move as she liked, and the sensations against his own clit seemed more intense from that angle. He held her body gently, taking it all in, and she took whatever she wanted from him, knowing he wasn't going to go soft on her. Bev had found girls did quite like that about his cock.

It was her suggestion. She leant over and kissed him, and whispered to him that she might like fucking him, if he didn't mind. She'd always wanted to try it, but hadn't found a man willing to let her. Bev raised an eyebrow, intrigued she had offered. He'd asked a few girls himself, but they'd declined. Janine was proving far more attractive by the minute.

Agreeing to let her fuck him, he sat up and untied the cock. He disposed of the condom before helping her get into it. There were a few more kisses, and Bev spent rather a lot of time sucking on her breasts as he positioned the cock in the right spot. She did like how it sat, and she ran her hand along the shaft a few times, thrusting into her hand.

He let her prepare the cock, and lay back, spreading his legs for her. He'd only ever been fucked in front twice before, and he wanted to try it again. It was so hard finding someone willing to fuck like that with him so he usually let it drop. Lifting his legs, she moved into position and slowly pushed inside him.

It was agonisingly slow, and it did hurt a little, but Bev was too turned on for it to hurt too much. He was already wet, and the extra lube made it almost effortless. She pushed in right to the hilt, getting a feel for his body. They went slowly, and she looked so turned on as she fucked him. Bev felt he really might want to keep her, if she was interested in being kept. She didn't seem quite the type to be kept, however, as she took her pleasure. Bev wanted to touch her again, but they weren't in the right position for that, so he made do with just watching her and moving with her as they fucked.

Bev thought she looked really pretty as they lay together afterwards. Her hair was a little untidy, but it fell over one eye and she smiled happily, a hand lazily drawing circles on his chest. They talked for a while about nothing in particular.

"Shall we do that again sometime?" Bev murmured, gazing at nothing in particular.

"Oh, you like a girl who can fuck you, hey? We'll see. Take me out again. You might be lucky," she said, brushing a finger down his cheek.

Bev promised he would, and after he'd taken her home, he spent the time thinking about where he could take her next. It'd have to be good, though. She had high standards, and she was hardly an ordinary girl. No, it had to be somewhere special, somewhere she'd like.

He got home late and fell into bed. He almost felt like preening, if he was the sort of guy who preened. He was proud of his progress though. He seemed to have adapted to being a man rather well, and it was rare he wasn't read as male. He didn't even need to come out to everyone if he didn't want to. Some people had conveniently selective memories and had managed to forget he hadn't been a boy his whole life. Still, it didn't matter. Life was good. He had nothing to complain about at all.

* * *

 _Alex's Pie Stand, central Birmingham, early July, 1962_  
Bev didn't notice him until he'd finished eating, this small slender lad hanging by Carl's side. He kept glancing about nervously, as if he didn't think he belonged. It seemed strange as Bev was familiar with the boy's rather hyperactive stage presence. It wasn't til Bev saw his face again that he knew why. He hadn't meant to discover his secret, but there was just something about his face that looked...

And then Bev looked again and he wasn't sure what exactly was different about his face that he had noticed. All he knew is that he was sure he'd found another boy like him, a boy who had once been a girl. It sent shivers down his spine. He wanted to talk to him, to tell him he was like him too, but he also knew he'd probably be far too skittish about it to talk to him, at least not while they were strangers. So, figuring he should at least introduce himself first, he went over to them.

"This your new boy, hey, Charlie?" Bev said as he came up beside them.

"Hey, Bev, there you are. Yeah, this is Ace. Ace, this is Bev, an old friend of mine," Carl said, introducing them.

"Well, I wouldn't have said we went back that far. He's just teasing. I've seen you on stage. You're good," Bev said.

Ace seemed to blush a little. "Ahh, thanks. You're pretty good too. Managed to catch a show or two when I can."

It became crystal clear then. Hearing his voice, Bev knew what he was. It made him even more determined to become friends with him so that one day he might share his secret with him. It took all his strength not to say anything as they exchanged small talk and gossip, and Bev caught Ace glancing at him shyly every now and then, as if he was wondering about him too.

They didn't talk for long. Bev's attention was drawn elsewhere, taking some time to chat with his other friends and fellow musicians, and Ace was pushed out of his mind for the moment. Bev had a few people he wanted to catch up with anyway, the people he only ever met at Alex's because they were too busy to meet anywhere else.

"Hey, Bev, wait up," Ace called, catching his attention again sometime later.

Bev turned to see him running up to him, still looking shyly at him. There weren't so many people around now, and Bev had been about to leave himself. "Ace. Hi. You off for the night then?"

"Yeah. I just- wanted to say goodbye. Maybe we'll talk again soon, yeah?" Ace said hopefully.

"Yeah, I'd like that," Bev said. "Keep Charlie on his toes for me."

Ace grinned. "Will do."

Bev watched him leave just as suddenly as he'd arrived, shaking his head in disbelief. Strange kid, but very likeable. Hearing Denny's call behind him, Bev hurried off to meet him. He was more than ready for bed.

* * *

 _Bev's house, Sparkhill, Birmingham, late July, 1962_  
Ace had accepted the invitation to go back to Bev's house after their last gig. It was late on a Saturday night, but Sandra was used to him being away and while he did call in to let her know he was fine, he was sure he'd not get in trouble. Besides, it was summer holidays, and he was taking every chance to play gigs during the week as well as weekends too, making up for lost time.

They were in Bev's room, his dog Remus lying on the rug in the middle of the room, fast asleep. Ace gazed in wonder at Bev as he tried to take in what he'd just told him. He hadn't expected they would become such close friends so quickly, but he liked him, and he trusted him, and they talked alone whenever they could. Ace touched his cheek, felt the light stubble, gazed into his eyes, seeking some sort of answer.

"I don't believe you. It's impossible. No way is that possible," Ace said.

"I gotta admit, we did get lucky. Right doctor at the right time, but yeah, it's possible. Been taking it since I was ten. You know there's a reason I'm telling you this, don't you?" Bev said, trying not to agitate him too much.

Ace fell silent, unsure what to do. He did know why Bev was telling him that. How he had known was incomprehensible. Could he have read his mind? How else could he have known? And if he knew, maybe others had figured it out too. Had he pushed his luck too far? Did everyone know he didn't have a dick? Unable to stop the spiralling thoughts, he curled into himself, unsure what he was supposed to do with this knowledge.

"No. It's impossible. I swear, I thought I was the only one. How did- I thought I was the only one," Ace murmured, still unable to accept it.

Bev brought him into a gentle hug; Ace still wasn't entirely comfortable with people touching him. "No, we're not alone, not anymore. I was so surprised I noticed you at all. I thought I'd misread things, that I was just seeing things that weren't there, but I was right. I found another boy like me."

Ace tried to stop his tears, but it wasn't going to happen. All his unhappiness, all the struggles he'd been through to fight for his identity, it was all washed away with a wave of relief. Not being alone, not being the only freak in the world, brought him more comfort than he could ever have known. Finally, he had someone else who shared his experiences. He could talk to Bev about things he'd only ever told himself. He was grateful for everything he'd been given, and though his transition was much slower, he would get there one day, if Bev's progress was anything to go by. One day, he'd have that too. It was the first sign of hope he'd ever had that things would get better.

Bev cradled him in his arms, whispering apologies for upsetting him as he stroked his hair gently. Ace wanted to speak, to talk to the only other person he knew who was like him, but he had too many secrets to keep and the words just wouldn't come out.

* * *

 _Carl's house, Castle Bromwhich, Birmingham, August 1964_  
Ace didn't want to hear it. He wasn't sure exactly what had triggered the distress again, but it didn't matter. He was upset and couldn't shake himself from the thought that he'd never become a real boy no matter how many hormones he injected into his body. He'd never look right. He'd never have a proper penis. He was a freak of a girl that no one could possibly love.

Bev tried to comfort him, and Carl held him gently, but it didn't help. Ace had been sleeping when Bev had arrived, but Carl suggested they go out for a while and let him rest. After a few down at the pub, they'd come back to pick Ace up for the gig that night, and they'd found him in the bathroom naked, scratching at his chest. The wounds weren't deep, but some had broken the skin, and the marks left behind were red and angry. He wouldn't talk to them, couldn't bring himself to voice his distress.

"I don't think we're playing tonight, not with him the way he is," Bev said, noticing the small pool of blood on the ground between his legs.

"But we've already missed two this week. I said we'd make it this time," Carl said.

"I can't go out there. I can't. They'll know how horrible I look," Ace murmured, burying his head in his arms.

Bev knelt down beside him. "When have they said that? Everyone loves you. I promise it'll be fine."

Ace shook his head. "No, I'm not going. I can't face them. Everything's wrong. I can't leave. It'll never be okay."

"Ace, we need you. I can't play bass out there. I promised I wouldn't do that again since we have you now. You're much better than me anyway," Carl said.

"You'll enjoy it once you're out there, you know. You always do. Isn't this what you've always wanted to do? Why let this spoil it?" Bev said.

"I can't. I just can't. It hurts too much right now. I just - not now. I can't do it right now. I'm still bleeding, Bev. When will I stop bleeding? When will it stop? I feel so horrible and ugly. I don't want to touch myself down there again, but I have to and I can't do it anymore," Ace said.

They held him gently, and Ace leant against Carl's shoulder as he cried. He hated that he was so useless. Every now and then he just got too distressed about his body. It just got too much. It was too hideous to look at. His therapist said it would go away with time, but he didn't always believe her. He scratched at his chest again, and Bev didn't have the heart to stop him.

"Why was I born like this? Why was I born wrong? It's not fair. It hurts so much and it's going so slowly. I don't know if I can last. I don't know if I can be strong enough. I just want to be a proper boy. Why can't I have that?"

Bev hugged him gently and pressed a kiss to his head. He understood what he was going through. "You'll get there, I promise. One day, you'll be the manliest man alive and no one will ever doubt you. I know it's hard right now, I've been there myself, but it does get better. I promise you, it does get better. The pain goes away, and everything gets better. Just - trust me. Listen to me. I've been through all this before and come out the other side. I know you can do it too. Come out with us tonight. We need you there. Prove to all those bastards that you're better than them."

Ace tried to believe him, but he couldn't believe it got any better than that. He'd had periods of distress before now, but they'd never been as bad as this one. He'd been showering, and he'd stood there, seeing his reflection in the mirror, and he wanted to cry. Nothing looked right. He'd just got another period too, and the extra pain didn't help. His periods weren't that bad anymore, he didn't have to stay in bed all day wracked with pain, but the fact he still got them was more than enough to trigger his distress. He'd been sick again, and he tried to fight off the cramps as blood began to drip onto the tiles.

He remembered wandering around the house, looking for a way to make the pain stop, but as he reached for a kitchen knife, he recoiled in panic. He didn't trust himself with it. He didn't want to die, he just wanted the pain to stop. He didn't want to die. His dad would be so disappointed. He had retreated to the bathroom and sunk to the floor, left with nothing but his hands. He clawed at his breasts, all he felt capable of doing. It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as he did inside. His lower back ached like buggery and he ignored the blood dripping out from between his legs as the pain worsened.

He was sick of being careful about what clothes he could wear. He couldn't show his chest because it was wrong. It wouldn't be allowed. People would find out the truth about him. They'd put him in dresses again. It made him feel ashamed and guilty that he couldn't reveal his chest. He hated lying about it, and the bandages around his chest were a constant irritation. He'd never stopped scratching at them either, hating that he had to wear them still.

He never bothered trying to fake a bulge in his trousers though. He couldn't find anything that he liked that didn't make him feel uncomfortable. He had been offered prosthetics as well, but they were hard and ugly and they didn't look right. He knew he was probably being far too picky, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't even take a piss standing up, and he hated that he always had to hide it whenever he was. Everything was wrong, and nothing was right, and he was still an ugly hideous girl who wore suits and pretended to be a boy. Everything about his life was a fraud.

He wanted to rage and cry out and scream at the world to fix him, but he didn't have the energy. Bev and Carl held him firmly, refusing to leave him alone. Even when he was at his worst, they refused to leave him, and he had no idea why they kept staying with him. He wasn't worth their attention. He fought a little more, trying to scratch at his breasts again, but this time they held his hands, keeping them away from his chest. He wasn't going to win this one and gave in.

"Just let me die. I can't bear this torment any more," Ace whispered.

"You don't want to die, not really. Come on, we've got a show to do, remember? We'll tidy you up and get going. The fans are clamouring to see you and I'd hate to disappoint them," Carl said.

Ace nodded in submission. He did like being on stage, he really did, and he hoped the show would be a nice distraction and push the distress out of his head for a while. They lifted him to his feet and sat him on the toilet seat. Ace wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to calm himself down.

"Give us a minute, will you? Go get something for the wounds. I'll deal with the rest," Bev said.

Carl got his meaning and left them alone. Ace sat there crying, his stomach aching. Bev cleaned up the blood and wished there was something he could do for him to take the pain away. The few periods he'd had hadn't been very bad before the testosterone kicked in and stopped them completely, but he had been much younger than Ace when he'd started. He was thankful for small mercies.

"Do you need me to help with this? Or can you do it? What do you use anyway?" Bev said.

"In the cupboard on the left. Cos they're invisible. Can't see 'em then. I can forget for a while," Ace said, indicating which cupboard the tampons were in. He couldn't bring himself to say the word either. "Like, I tried them pads too, but it made me sick. Can't bear looking at that shit. It's too big and uncomfortable. Don't even like talking about it too much either. It's gross and horrible."

Bev found the box of tampons and handed them over. Ace just stared at them, resenting the fact he still needed them.

"Just - look away. I don't want you seeing this. It's bad enough I gotta do it," Ace said as he took one out.

"Sure, whatever you need," Bev said and turned around.

It was a necessary evil, and it was the only time Ace ever touched himself down there. It was incredibly uncomfortable and it made him sick to have to do it, but it was that, or wear some hideous belt thing that made it more than obvious that he was bleeding. He cleaned as much blood away as he could to avoid getting any on his hand. Taking a deep breath to steady his emotions, he inserted it, refusing to look down as he did so. He obsessively washed his hands afterwards, not wanting any trace to remain on his skin.

Bev glanced over his shoulder. "You done then?"

Ace nodded. "Should think about something to wear tonight, if I'm going to play."

Bev wrapped an arm around his shoulders and they headed back to Carl's room. Ace kept a collection of stage clothes there for convenience. Bev leant against the doorframe as Ace dressed, picking out a nice grey suit. He lay it on the bed as he pulled on some underwear.

"You don't pack? I didn't notice that before," Bev commented.

Ace glanced at him. "No, I can't find anything I like. I think you're the only one who's noticed so far though."

"That's because I know what to look for. You look fine though. I doubt anyone would notice," Bev said.

"I'm just holding out til I find one that looks right, you know? I'm sure you've seen some of the ones that are available. They're just not quite right," Ace said.

"They're not bad, though. At least they're beginning to get better. You should've seen them a decade ago when I first started using them," Bev said.

Ace wasn't sure he wanted to see them. He pulled his trousers on and straightened. He glanced at his reflection and couldn't help thinking what a fucking mess he'd become. "Does it look okay? I don't really need to pack down there, do I? Only sometimes they're a bit too tight and it's too obvious so I do it. But I don't always like it."

Bev took in his appearance. "Could go either way with those, but maybe pack anyway, just in case. They don't quite look right. Bit too hollow, you know? I mean, I doubt anyone will notice anyway, but you can never be too sure."

"Bollocks."

Ace unenthusiastically searched for the packers he used. He didn't keep them all there, just the ones he couldn't live without. The more expensive ones were back at the estate, as were all his really expensive suits. He was supposed to be a working class lad. Even with the band, there were some things he wasn't supposed to have that would give away his position. He found the box under Carl's bed and he pulled it out and set it on the dresser.

"I really hate these things. Go on, which one'll do?" Ace said, offering him the box.

Bev shrugged. He didn't mind using them, and while they weren't the greatest things ever, he didn't care. He'd got used to concealing them when using bathrooms so no one ever twigged, and those who he had come out to, knew he'd been a girl before, so it never bothered them. Bev felt he'd picked the best cover story ever to get away with not having the right genitals.

Ace picked a small cup-like one out. It wasn't designed for anything other than giving the illusion of a penis, and it was made of plastic. "I don't really feel up to wearing a cock tonight. They never quite feel right on stage. I move around too much, I think."

Bev understood that one. At least he spent most of the time sitting down. "It's up to you. If you don't feel up to it, you don't have to wear one."

"No, you're right, I probably should. I shouldn't be so picky about them. They're trying, y'know?" Undoing his trousers, Ace slipped the cup inside his underpants, checking to see if the bulge looked alright. "It's not too big, is it? I always worry they look too big. I'm not a big guy like you. I don't want it to look weird."

"Nah, looks fine to me. They've obviously tried to get ones that'll look okay on you," Bev said.

"Yeah, they did, after I rejected the ones they offered me first. That everything then? I suppose I'd better get all this cleaned up now, hey?" Ace said, gesturing at the wounds on his chest.

"This way, sir," Bev said, ushering him out into the hall.

They found Carl in the lounge, and Ace sat in an armchair as Carl cleaned him up, dressing the worst of the wounds. They stung with pain, and Ace felt terrible he'd even done it. He'd have to look at the marks until they went away. He was just glad he hadn't used anything more serious than his fingers. That could've ended badly, and he might not be going off to a gig tonight if he had.

"I hope you're not going to do this again any time soon. You could've done some real damage if we hadn't come round," Carl said, though he wasn't as angry as he sounded.

"Don't worry, I don't think I'll try that again. I nearly went for a knife, you know. Scared meself, I did," Ace said.

"You'll talk to your-"

"Way ahead of you, Bev. I'll give her a call tomorrow, let her know what happened," Ace said. "Cos this is the worst it's been, y'know?"

Bev reached for his hand. "If you're ever feeling like that again, you know you can come over any time. I'll take care of you til you're feeling better."

"Thanks. Y'know, I don't know if I ever mentioned how much I appreciate that, havin' somewhere to go if it gets too much. But I do. It's nice, and yer mum's nice too," Ace said.

"She's very fond of you, that's for sure," Bev said.

With the wounds dressed, Ace could finish dressing. He still felt a little sore, but he'd taken some paracetamol and hoped it would dull the pain enough to get him through the gig. Taking a moment to settle his emotions one last time, they packed the van and headed off for the gig.

* * *

 _Bev's house, Sparkhill, Birmingham, December 10, 1964_  
Ace had settled a lot since Sandra had provided a stable home for him, and the more he hung out with Carl and Bev, especially at the Pie Stand after gigs, the more friends he made from other bands. Bev had also joined The Vikings a few months ago, and that had made their month-long stint in Germany during the summer bearable, considering how awful the conditions had been. The only good things about the trip had been the exchange rate, and the money they were getting. Playing ten hours a night was not high on Ace's list of things he wished to do again for any period of time ever. If Bev hadn't been there to keep his spirits up, he might've quit and gone home at the end of the first week.

Ace hadn't bothered to tell the rest of the band what he was yet either, but that wasn't a priority. He was just glad to have people around him who liked him and cared about him. He decided he was tired of being alone, and his friends were slowly breaking down his skittishness about being touched. He wasn't totally over it, and he still hadn't been with anyone yet, but he had stopped being so nervous about being around people. They accepted him as one of them, and that was enough.

In spite of this, though, it didn't stop him hating his body, and the older he got, the more he wished he could change his sex more quickly. He had to pretend he was younger than he really was at school, but all it meant was he was three years behind guys his own age, and it was somewhat distressing. He wanted to be a proper boy like them. He was still binding, but at least the testosterone had finally kicked in and he'd stopped bleeding at last. That was one less thing to worry about, and it brought him considerable relief.

Ace trudged through the light snow towards Bev's house. It was a rare night off for both of them, but since they'd done three shows the night before and crashed home after two in the morning, Ace wasn't complaining. Unlike Carl, he wasn't interested in heading out to the Handsworth Plaza to see if they could sneak a half hour set in. Sure, Thomas was technically fifteen now, and Sandra didn't mind him going out on weeknights if he was home before eleven, but that was conditional on Ace not having any homework to do. He had O levels to prepare for, and he had to decide what he was going to do for Sixth Form. Just because he could go out on weeknights now didn't mean he was able to leave all that work undone. He had scraped through well for the last three years, and he wanted to make Sandra proud of him. He wanted to be a worthy son for his father so that he could rest easy knowing he had a capable heir once he passed on. He felt he owed them that much, given everything they'd done for him.

It was beginning to snow, and Ace wanted to be inside where it was warm, not out in the cold. Besides, Ace liked being at Bev's house. It was a nice house anyway, a nice house on a nice street, big and full of warmth, but not so much he felt out of place, not like he'd felt at Sandra's house. Their dog Remus was quite fond of him, and Bev's mother liked making sure he was well-fed if he was around for dinner. It had become a second home, and for that, Ace was grateful. It gave him somewhere to retreat to when the big old house he lived in became too big and empty, and it was closer than going all the way back to Sutton after a gig. Bev and his mother were good middle class people anyway. Ace felt Sandra would approve. He hadn't dared just yet as it was easier to maintain the separation of Ace and Thomas. One day, he would introduce them properly.

He had only known Bev for six months, but he'd never felt so close to someone before. He couldn't say why he liked him so much, though the fact that they were both in the same situation and shared similar experiences did help a lot. Ace might also have said he loved him, but he wasn't sure what that was even supposed to feel like either so he said nothing. He still stayed with Carl though, every now and then. Sometimes Carl's house was closer, so he stayed with him, but other times Bev's house was closer, so he stayed the night there. Every now and then, he'd managed to convince Bev to stay with him at Carl's too, and he let them curl up in bed next to him. He'd never felt safer, and he liked knowing they were close by. They'd become his closest friends, and they got him through when he wasn't at his best.

That Bev's mother understood his situation as well was more of a blessing than Ace could ever say. She didn't call him a girl, and fussed over him every time he was over, just to make sure he was doing okay. It took a few months before Ace felt comfortable talking to her about things the way Bev did, but she proved to be a great support for him, and it was nice having another mother willing to care for him like Sandra did. He had a proper safe house, and people to be around. It grounded him, made him remember where he'd come from, so he didn't get too caught up in being an Earl's son as well.

Remus greeted him with a bark as he arrived, and Bev's mother opened the door to him, ushering him inside with a warm hug. The dog made the house seem noisier than it was as he circled around his feet happily. Ace reached down to scratch behind his ears in greeting.

"Bev said you were coming round. He's up in his room. Let him know dinner'll be ready soon. I've got something special for you tonight," she said.

"Oh really? What's the occasion?" Ace inquired as he slipped his coat off.

She looked at him and smiled. "Bev may have mentioned it was your birthday. We wouldn't want you to go without some sort of celebration."

Her prompting reminded him of the date. Ace had almost forgotten. It had been a very long time since he'd bothered to celebrate his real birthday, not Thomas' birthday. "Oh, yeah, it is, isn't it? You didn't have to go to so much trouble, though."

"It's no trouble at all. Go on, get out of here. I'll call you when it's ready," she said, gesturing up the stairs as she took his coat.

Ace thanked her and headed upstairs. He made a mental note to tell Bev off a little for telling his mother it was his birthday, though he was surprised anyone had remembered at all. It was never something he made much of a fuss about as he struggled to handle two separate identities. It was just easier if he let it slide, rather than have someone find out he had two birthdays and two names.

He found Bev's bedroom door slightly ajar. The room looked dark, and he entered quietly in case he was napping. Bev wasn't napping, but there was still enough light for Ace to see Bev lying on his bed, towel draped lazily over his naked body, as a hand moved between his legs.

His breath caught in his throat as Ace closed the door behind him, not wanting his mother to find out what he was doing. He didn't want to disturb him, and certainly, Bev looked like he was too lost in his own fantasies to have heard him enter. Ace watched him, entranced. He'd never actually seen his naked body before, and he was astounded at how masculine he looked. He felt a little inadequate next to him. All skin and bones, he was hardly the epitome of manliness Bev was. He always tried not to compare himself to Bev, but Bev was the only other guy like him he knew, and he couldn't help it.

He was eighteen years old now, and Ace felt the first surge of arousal he'd ever experienced as he stood there in the darkness watching him. A hand strayed between his own legs, just rubbing gently, though he was unsure he was even doing it right as he'd never touched himself down there before, not like that. He couldn't help noticing the small penis-like thing Bev was stroking with his fingers that was clearly bringing him a lot of pleasure. His own dick wasn't that big. It had swollen a little, lengthened a little, but not like that. Would it always be so small? He didn't know. He hoped not.

Ace traced every contour of his body with his gaze, wishing he had a body just like it, imagining he was the one lying there playing with his dick. He had no feelings of discomfort as he stroked himself, amazed he was capable of arousal at all. The longer he was there, the more aroused he felt, and soon he'd unzipped his trousers as his hand slipped inside his underwear, feeling the warm wet flesh between his fingers. It took a while to work out which bit gave him pleasure when he rubbed against it, but once he found it, he kept touching it, rubbing it with his slick fingers as he felt the pleasure build up between his legs.

Ace took in everything, watching everything Bev did. There were some things he couldn't see because of the way Bev was writhing on the bed, but he didn't mind. He rather thought they were the better bits, as his imagination filled the gaps quite well. Bev seemed so at ease with his body. He ran his hands over his skin, touched his chest, made love to himself in a way Ace had never had the capability to do before. Ace wished he would one day experience that too.

Bev lay there once he was done, legs falling open as he relaxed. Ace stood there by the door, watching him, wondering when Bev would realise he wasn't alone. He didn't have to wonder for long as Bev gazed over at him and smiled, switching the bedside lamp on.

"Hey. There you are. I wondered when you were going to get here," Bev said. He sat up a little, but didn't appear ashamed by the situation and he made no move to cover up his naked body as he threw the towel aside.

"Er, yeah, yer mam sent me up a while ago," Ace said, trying not to blush with embarrassment as he averted his gaze.

Bev gave him a pointed look as he saw his trousers slipping down his legs. "Yeah, I noticed. Want me to finish it off for you?"

"Oh, I-I didn't mean to, I-"

Ace found he wasn't able to finish as Bev got to his feet and came over to him. Standing before him, so close to him, Ace could see his body up close and he dared to touch him, taking in everything before him. Bev had grown into a tall and handsome man, and Ace wanted him. Or perhaps wanted to be him. Perhaps both.

Bev reached down and brought him into a soft kiss, letting his lips linger a little as a hand slipped inside Ace's trousers. Ace could tell straight away that he knew what he was doing, and he melted into his embrace. Bev sucked on his neck, licking his collar bone, as he undid the buttons on his shirt one by one. Bev wanted every inch of his body to pleasure, and Ace soon found it difficult to keep standing.

There was a brief pause as Bev picked him up and lay him on his bed, and Ace let himself be undressed as Bev continued. For a moment, while Bev was touching him, Ace forgot how much he hated his body, and just lay back and let the pleasure overwhelm him. Ace could barely keep his eyes off Bev as he moved between his legs and began sucking and licking, stroking him with his fingers.

There was a moment. Ace wasn't quite sure how to describe it, but there was no time to think about it further before he climaxed hard, ripples of pleasure coursing through his body. He lay there, eyes wide open in surprise, as Bev shifted up beside him.

"That was incredible," Ace whispered.

"Happy birthday. There'll be more where that came from after dinner if you wanna stay over," Bev murmured as he pressed a kiss to his neck.

"I don't-"

Ace didn't know what else to say. Bev kissed him, a hand gently stroking the bandages binding his breasts. He hadn't bothered to remove them, given the time they had.

"God, you're gorgeous. I've wanted to do that for a while now. I hope I didn't upset you," Bev said.

Ace wasn't so convinced. "Me? Gorgeous? Why would you want a skinny bastard like me? I'm hardly the man you are."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You'll have what I have one day. Just be patient. You'll look like a proper boy and no one will ever doubt you. Can you hang on for me? I love you and I want you and I don't want you to hate yourself anymore," Bev said.

Ace turned to look at him, searching his eyes for reassurance. "You really think I'll look like you one day? You really think so?"

"Yeah. That's kinda why I wanted to see you. I-" Bev was interrupted by his mother calling them to dinner. He grinned. "Be right down, mum!" he called back. "Come on, time for your birthday dinner."

They shared another kiss and dressed, taking a moment to clean up before heading down to dinner. The dining room was decked out with streamers, and Ace was surprised to see Carl, the rest of the band, and a few of his close friends there with him. He saw Roy there, and Trevor, and a few others he'd come to befriend. Birthday parties still weren't something he was used to having, and the attention was as embarrassing as it was amazing.

"Yer a bunch of sneaky bastards, you know," Ace said, but he was secretly pleased by their efforts.

Carl clapped him over the shoulder. "You didn't think we'd forget, did you?"

"Charlie, even I forgot it was me birthday. I was hardly expecting anything, but it's nice you remembered," Ace said.

And it was nice. Bev's mother had prepared a feast for them, and they sat around the table together. Ace even got a birthday cake and a brand new bass guitar, one he'd been eyeing off for months. Ace was astonished by their generosity. The bass he'd nicked from his brother six years ago just wasn't up to the task anymore, and he'd been making do with borrowed ones while he saved up enough to get a new one. If he was going to have a new bass, he wanted to buy it himself, not just use his parents' money. He never used the one Sandra had bought him as he didn't want to stand out too much. It would look too out of place if he turned up with one he couldn't possibly afford.

The money he'd made from the band he kept for himself, saving it in case he got thrown out on the streets again. In spite of his parents' generosity, he couldn't help worrying it would never last. He wanted to save every last penny he had in case he was thrown out on the streets again. He didn't want to be left with nothing.

The party went on for hours, and they started up a jam session in Bev's back room where he kept his kit so Ace could try out his new bass. I was awesome fun playing with them all, and they coaxed Ace into trying out singing at last. They knew he had a good voice, he had given that away a while ago, but he still didn't have the confidence to sing on stage. He was still scared he sounded too feminine. That night put a rest to that particular fear. Carl wouldn't let him be silent any longer, and they began devising songs he could sing on. They'd have to practice them, of course, but it was a start.

Roy demoed a couple of songs he'd written, but they weren't finished yet and he wasn't entirely happy with them. The last song they did was one of Ace's, the only one he felt was complete enough to try. He changed the words as he sung them, and promised he'd work on a few more now that he had a better bass to go with Carl's guitar that he'd inherited a few months ago. Carl never used it anymore and Ace decided he was tired of it sitting around collecting dust. No, instruments definitely weren't Carl's forte but he was so good on stage it didn't even matter. He could sing anything and sing it well.

Ace did stay at Bev's that night. The house was quieter once everyone had gone home. Ace bid them a fond farewell before Bev led him up to bed. They talked for a while as they lay there together, and if Bev reached over and slipped a hand between his legs again, well, Ace wasn't going to complain. He'd never felt so loved in his whole life.

* * *

Ace slept til midmorning. Bev decided to let him sleep as long as he wanted. When Ace did wake, he found himself alone. Ace sat up, wondering what time it was. He was naked, his chest unbound. It was a strange way to wake up, but he did remember what he'd done the night before and he sat there, letting the memories come to mind again. He had a feeling there was no turning back now.

Reaching over to the bottom drawer of the bedside table, he found what he was after. It was a rubber dildo, the rope that had tied it on still hanging around it. Ace had used it last night. For the first time in his life, he had a penis, and it had felt wonderful as he'd had sex with Bev, thrusting inside him as if it were real. Getting out of bed, he tied it on again, adjusting it so it was sitting properly, like he remembered Bev showing him. Binding his chest, he went to the long mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door and stared at his reflection.

He didn't like looking at the bandages on his chest, but it did help conceal his sex. He pulled his shirt on to hide the bandages, and that made him feel a bit better. He curled a hand around the shaft, moving it up and down slowly as if it were real. It wasn't real, of course, but it felt right. Ace liked the way it felt. It was the first time a prosthetic had actually felt right, and he wasn't sure what to do with that. It was progress, at least. Maybe one day he'd find one for himself that felt right.

He remembered the night before and spent a moment digesting what had happened. He'd never experienced anything like that before and he had no way of sorting it out. He wasn't sure he liked sex, and if he didn't like sex, was it because he still hated his body, or for some other reason he was unaware of? But he'd had a cock. It wasn't like the first time, when Bev was just using his fingers. Ace was properly fucking him like a boy would. He'd thrust inside him, and it had felt good. And he had enjoyed himself with Bev, that much was true. He'd even come again, and he would never deny that wasn't pleasurable, even if it had taken a long time to get there. But sex also meant exposing his imperfect body, even to Bev, and it just reminded him of how badly he wanted to change it. It wasn't right, it wasn't even right for sex, and he just wanted to curl up and die.

Things were moving too slowly. They'd got a bit faster as he'd got older, though. His testosterone dose had increased as Thomas was technically fifteen now, and that had stopped his period completely and masculinised his features rather a lot more. His voice was deeper and private singing lessons at school helped his voice adjust to its new range. Ever since he'd joined the band, he desperately wanted to be able to sing on stage, but he'd always avoided it as even though he had a good voice, he didn't want to sound like a girl. The night before, when he'd been jamming with his friends, had been the first time he'd tried out his new voice. He'd need some more confidence to do it again, but it had gone well, and they'd reassured him he didn't sound like a girl.

His body was more masculine than it had been. It was hard to tell as he was still as skinny as ever, but really, only his hips were still mostly feminine. For the most part, he looked masculine, or at worst, vaguely androgynous. It wasn't a bad thing, but he wasn't anywhere near done yet with his transition and he was getting impatient. He was still binding. He still had breasts. It wasn't right and he wanted to be old enough already so he could have them removed. He couldn't help scratching at the bandages again, though he held back this time, unwilling to repeat what had happened a few months ago.

Wiping an errant tear from his eye, he removed the dildo and crawled back into bed, clutching the pillow close as he began to cry. He would never have a real penis. He would only have fake ones that were never quite right. It made him feel like he'd never be a real boy. He knew, intellectually, that genitals didn't dictate what gender he was - he knew that better than anyone, but he couldn't help feeling inadequate because he didn't have a proper penis. He'd got good at hiding it from the boys at school so they could never tease him about it. He might've been an eccentric loner at school, but he didn't want to attract their attention any more than necesssary.

But he was with Bev now, and he was still comparing himself in his mind, dismayed at how he still didn't look like him. He had more muscle, sure, and his face was more masculine now, but he still had breasts and no dick. It made him feel ugly and horrible. Unlovable. He'd never look like Bev, all tall and muscular. He'd always be this scrawny little boy with girly hips and no dick. The distress he felt at having the wrong body came crashing down upon him, suffocating any hope he might have had.

"Hey, you alright?"

Ace didn't turn around as he heard Bev enter, shutting the door softly behind him. "I won't be alright til I look like a proper boy. But that'll never happen. I'm stuck this way til I die."

Bev lay down beside him and brought him into his arms. "Hey, don't say that. Don't think like that. I know it's slower for you, but you'll get there, I know you will. Don't give up now."

Ace rested his head on his chest, wiping his tears away. "It's too slow, but they won't change it. Can't change it. I didn't really understand the reason, but more doesn't work. So I'm stuck with it. Everything's so bloody wrong. I just wanna be a boy. It's all I've ever wanted. Why's it taking so long? I don't know how much longer I can do this. Got too much to do. It's doin' me head in."

"I know it takes a long time, I know, I've been there, but it gets better. Just hang in there. It'll be alright one day, I promise. You'll be able to look at your body and not hate what you see. You're still young. You've got your whole life ahead of you. And hey, if you think things are getting too much, don't be afraid to step back and do what you can handle. We can cut back a few gigs if we really have to, like during the week or whatever. I don't want you feeling like you have to do so much you burn out. You've got more than enough to deal with, as far as I'm concerned," Bev said, stroking his hair gently.

Ace pulled away and sat up. He felt this was the moment he should tell Bev all his secrets, just to get them off his chest, but at the same time, the thought of revealing how much of a fraud he was terrified him. What if Bev hated him for lying to him? What then?

"Hey, did I say something wrong? What's the matter?" Bev asked, sitting up.

Ace decided it was now or never. He decided now was the time to tell Bev that other secret he'd been hiding from him. "Y'don't understand. I never - I never said where I was really from. Like, I live in a posh house in Sutton. Like, one of them big old ones. My father's a Lord. I've got school and college and university and music and lessons and the band and it's all just too much. I'm already behind, though I haven't had the guts to tell me mum yet. I don't know if they'll let me postpone things even more. I- I always thought being a posh kid would be fun, but it's really not. I'd give anything for a house like yours and none of the responsibility. I owe them too much for what they've done to me and I ain't gonna disappoint them now. I can't. I owe them too much."

"You serious? But you've been hanging around here for a few years now. How on earth did you get let out on yer own at that age? You're, what, just gone eighteen?" Bev said.

Ace just lay there in tears. He wasn't sure he should tell him anything else. "Can I trust you to keep a secret? Like, a proper secret? No one's allowed to know. I'll get killed if anyone finds out. Best not even tell yer mam either, even if I like her a lot too. Cos I got meself into big trouble and I don't know if I can get meself out of it."

Bev figured it was pretty big if those were the stakes. His protective streak kicked in as he answered. "I promise. It won't leave this room. I won't tell a soul."

Ace took a moment to dry his eyes again, trying to settle his emotions. He felt Bev ought to really have worked everything out by now, but he hadn't, and now it was down to him to tell him his last secret. He wondered if it was wise, but he trusted Bev and he hoped he'd understand why he'd lied about almost everything.

"I'm not really their son, I was just adopted. Well, sort of adopted. It's a bit complicated, but everyone thinks I'm their son now. Like, the real one, he went missing or something? But I only got taken into their house cos I was homeless and it was winter and I was sleeping in their stables. They thought I was him, apparently we look alike, and I didn't have the heart to tell them the truth. Cos me real home was a disaster. Me mam never liked me, me dad was crazy, and me brother and sisters never cared. There wasn't enough of anything. I was always hungry. I never got nothing cos I took after me dad. I was crazy like him, y'know? Cos I always thought I was a boy, but me mam never believed me, she never did, and she sent me away to get me fixed, but it just made me worse, so I ran away. And I ended up in this big house and I was their son and now I can't get out of it because they all expect so much of me and I'm not sure I can live up to it. I got a title, like a proper one, and I'm at a public school, and I'm not 'sposed to tell anyone. I'm eighteen, Bev. Eighteen years old. I should be a proper boy, not still in bloody school. But everyone thinks 'm only fifteen. I don't know what to do. How can I cope with all this? I'm gonna be an Earl one day, live in that big old house by meself, with staff and big scary old paintings, and go to Parliament and it's all too much. I can't deal with this anymore."

"Shit. That's a pretty big secret. I'm not surprised you felt you had to tell someone. Don't worry, I won't tell. I won't put you in danger like that. Is there anything I can do to help?" Bev said.

"I don't know. Don't tell anyone. Y'can see why I'm so distressed, can't you? But I don't know how to talk to me mam about it. How'm I supposed to say I can't do it anymore? I just don't know how. Would you come with me one day? I'd like you there. I just can't do this on me own anymore," Ace said.

"Sure, if that's what you want. I don't need to bow or anything, do I?" Bev said.

"No, not that I know of. Lots of m'Lords and m'Lady's but. Like, everyone at home addresses me as 'm'lord' and such. It's weird. I like it, but I don't like it. It reminds me what I've got ahead of me. Like, how can I leave 'em now? They ain't got any more kids, and they really do love me. Why would I give that up? She's been more of a mother than me own was. I love them too, y'know? I won't give that up. I can't give that up. So y'see why I'm stuck, don't you?" Ace said.

"Yeah, I can understand that. That's quite a predicament. But I'll come with you if you want me there, and we'll see if we can't simplify your life a little, hey?" Bev said, bringing him into a warm hug.

Ace hugged him back. "Thanks. Do you - I mean, you're like me, wanting to be a boy. Maybe that'll make things easier, if you tell her that. Y'don't have to, but I thought maybe-"

"We'll see, alright? It's not that big a secret for me, but if you think it'll help, sure. She might know my doctor. Didn't you say she was a psychiatrist?"

"Yeah, she is. She used to work in London, but now she works here. I think she wanted to be closer to me. Cos dad's going away all the time to London, and then so was she, but now she's just in Birmingham and the house isn't so big and empty anymore. Cos I ain't a boarder at school so I'm home all the time. I mean, I like me nanny, but I like me mam better," Ace said.

"Well, you let me know when you want me to come over and I'll go with you, yeah?" Bev said. "When did you need to be home anyway?"

"I think I said I'd be back today, yeah. Come with me and we'll see how it goes. You can at least meet her. I think she'd like you," Ace said. "But call me Thomas. I'm supposed to be Thomas at home. And don't forget the 'm'lords' and such. Stupid protocols. It's annoying as fuck. I've gotta remember how to address everyone properly. I swear, I'd rather learn Latin than try and remember all the different forms of address. But I have to remember them cos they're the people I socialise with so I ain't got no choice in the matter. I can only get away with it for so long before I'm expected to know how to do it without thinking."

Bev smiled and "I'll do my best. Come on, let's get you ready then. We'll have some breakfast and head over after that. That okay with you?"

Ace smiled a little. "Yeah, that sounds alright. Thanks. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here to talk to. Probably go mad."

Bev hugged him again. "It's nothing. We all need someone to confide in every now and then. No more tears, alright? Let's go sort out your life."

Ace smiled a little more, and they got out of bed. Ace was nervous about talking to his mother, but he would have Bev with him, so that would make things a little less daunting. He just hoped she'd agree and at least let him put off college or university for a while to give him time to work out what he wanted to do. He still didn't really know. He felt he'd rather go in knowing he'd made the right choice than waste two years doing things he wasn't interested in.

* * *

 _Four Oaks Hall, Four Oaks, Sutton Coldfield, December 11, 1964_  
After saying goodbye to Bev's mother, Bev and Ace drove back to Sutton. They talked a little, and Bev noticed his accent changing as they approached the huge manor house. It really was a bloody big house in the country, with working stables, and acres of land. Bev stopped at the front gate as Ace got out to let them in. It was with a certain trepidation that Bev drove forward, realising this wasn't just an ordinary house. Ace joined him as they went up the drive, the gate chained up behind them.

"You'll excuse the accent. I'm supposed to speak properly. I slip into it almost naturally now, especially as I come home. It's weird. This place-" Ace gestured vaguely at his head for a moment, before losing his train of thought. "I don't know."

"Well, it's certainly big enough. Are you serious that there's only the three of you here? In that great big thing? What a waste of space," Bev commented.

"Well, us three, the staff, and the animals. Most of the house is shut off, actually. We don't use that much, just most of the ground floor. Bedrooms are on the second floor. That's about it, really. It's gigantic. I still don't think I've seen every room in there," Ace said as they approached the front of the house.

Bev pulled up. The house looked even bigger then. Craning his neck, he tried to see past the roof, but failed.

"Jesus bloody-"

"Don't swear, father doesn't like it," Ace hissed instinctively. He had grown used to his father correcting him for such words; when he was out with Bev, he wasn't being Thomas and he swore without concern.

"Sorry. I'll let you do the talking, yeah?" Bev said. "Come on, show me what it's like in there."

"Alright, but don't point out how expensive it all is. I know, alright? It's embarrassing. You're the first person I've ever brought here who's not from my class. You're doing alright enough for yourself, and I still feel like this is ostentatious and embarrassing. How did I get to live in such a huge place?" Ace said.

They headed up the stairs and the door opened for them. Ace gave his greetings, and told them to look after the car. Bev handed his keys over and felt he could rather get used to that sort of service as the man went off to drive his car round the back.

"Impressive. He'd better not scratch her. Mum won't buy me another if I crash it again," Bev said.

"He won't, he's good with cars. Now come on, stop gawping already," Ace said, dragging him inside.

It really was hard to contain his awe at what he saw inside the house. It looked exactly how he expected a three hundred year old house to look. Some things never change, it seems, and by the look of some of the antiques, no, they really didn't. Suits of armour, shields, large portraits and statues and busts, it was all there. Bev wasn't sure if the family really did go back that far, or if they just wanted to seem like they did.

Ace led him through the house, wondering where his mother might be. He wasn't necessarily going to go straight to her, she might be busy, or out in the gardens. But as they left the dining room (Bev had never seen a table so long before), one of the maids mentioned Ace's mother was looking for him, and that she was waiting in the drawing room. With no way to avoid it now, off they went.

Bev wasn't sure what surprised him more, that the room was so small, or because he saw his therapist standing by the window. He possibly should've put two and two together. Who else would his mother have been? Ace walked forward and she turned to see them, smiling at them.

"Bev. This is unexpected. What are you doing here?" Sandra said, gesturing for them to sit.

They took a seat on the sofa. Bev tried not to spend too much time admiring the brocade and the embroidery or the gold covering the arms. "We play in a band together. He often stays over at my place on the weekends. You should see him on stage. He's amazing. I think we might even get him singing up there one day."

"He could be in much worse company, that's for sure. I suppose there's no point in denying his identity either. Has he told you yet?" Sandra said.

"Just this morning. I knew he was like me long before I knew about all this," Bev said, indicating the house around him.

"I'm sure I don't have to remind you to keep silent about it," Sandra said. She took a seat in an adjacent chair and watched them together.

"I'm good with secrets. Don't worry about it," Bev reassured her.

Ace decided to change the subject. "Was there a reason you wanted to see me, mum?"

"I was just wondering if you'd thought about university at all. I know it's a big thing to ask of you, but it's getting to that point where you're going to need to make some sort of decision one way or another," Sandra said.

Bev noticed Ace's shoulders slumping a little. Ace didn't particularly want to discuss that, but she was right. He should really decide at some point, rather than just put it off indefinitely.

"I had a feeling it'd be about that. I won't lie to you. All I want to do is be in a band. But I won't shame you if you'd rather I did something else more suitable. It's just - I don't know what I'd even be good at, besides music. I don't know if I'm smart enough or strong enough to cope with university either. It's been hard enough at school. University's supposed to be much harder, right? I don't know if I could handle the stress. I'm sorry, I'm not a very good son, am I?" Ace said.

"He's been a bit distressed this morning too. It all got a bit much, didn't it?" Bev said.

Sandra shifted over beside them and brought Ace close, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Ace held her back. He needed her reassurances.

"I don't like binding. I don't like how slow it is. I don't like still being in school. I can't stop hating my body. When will it ever stop? How can I concentrate on anything else when I look in the mirror and hate what I see?" Ace murmured.

"It'll go away in time, I know it will. Trust me. I've been there and come out the other side. I know I make it look easy, but it's not. I've just had longer to adjust to it. Give it a couple more years and you'll settle," Bev said, trying to give him some hope.

Sandra hugged him tight. She never liked seeing him upset. "If it's bothering you that much, I can try and see if we can schedule chest surgery a little earlier during the summer. Would that help? I don't want you to feel like this is impossible. If you need more time for school, you can have it. You know I'd let you be in a band if that's what you really wanted, but you can't pretend you don't have responsibilities either. You're the only one I've got. All this will be yours one day, along with the titles and the privileges. It took me a while to get used to that too. Don't forget, I married into the family; I was a commoner before I met your father. Is there anything else I can do to make life easier for you?"

"I just turned eighteen, you know. It was my birthday yesterday. My proper one. I've been through so much these past few years. This house still scares me. I still don't really feel like it's mine. But you've been so good to me, and given me so much, it'd be rude not to pay it back somehow, so if you need an heir, and there's no one else who can do it, I'll accept that. It beats being out on the streets starving to death. How much freedom are you willing to give me? I just want to be in a band, but I know that wouldn't really be acceptable for most of your friends. It's all I'm good at, mum. It's all I really want to do. I know we're going to be famous one day, I can just feel it, and I don't want to give up on that just because I have to go to university. You know I'm not interested in politics. I'm not clever enough for all those proper careers. All I'm good at is music. Why can't I just do that? Would it really be so bad?" Ace said.

"You know I don't mind, and really, you've hardly got the same need to work like some people do. I think your father would rather you didn't work at all, but he came from a family where they never worked. It wasn't what peers did. But things are different now. This house'll be yours one day and you'll need to maintain it if you want to pass it on to any children you might have. Sure, we have a lot of money, but it won't last forever, and as much as your father doesn't like it, you'll need some sort of income to help maintain this place. It's partly why I work. It adds to what we've got because this place just eats up money. The more we have, the better, and it stops me from being bored. I was working before I met your father anyway. I wasn't going to give that up for his family tradition. I wouldn't blame you for selling up and moving somewhere much smaller, though. Just don't try it while your father's alive, alright? He'd have a fit. Keep the title, by all means, but feel free to downsize. This place is hardly practical these days. Even peers need to keep up with the rest of society. We're one of the few families left who still have a big old house like this," Sandra said.

"So what should I do? I'm not going into politics. I'm not popular enough anyway, even if I wanted to do that. I don't think I'm smart enough for law or medicine. I don't need that sort of stress. So what else can I do? What's left?" Ace said.

"How about you just concentrate on finishing school, and we'll worry about college and university after that. There's no proper time frame. You're already used to being older than everyone else, and you've been delayed a year anyway, so what's the rush? I'd rather you took your time and figured out what you wanted to do first before plunging head first into something that's just going to be too overwhelming for you. Play in this band of yours, try not to get into trouble, and we'll see when you're eighteen what you want to do, alright? How does that sound?" Sandra said.

Ace liked that a lot. He had three years to mess about before he'd have to make a decision. He felt the stress begin to shift out of his shoulders, and smiled, appreciating her concern for his wellbeing. She really was the best damn mother he'd ever had, and he felt so very lucky to have her, even if he did have a lot of responsibility hanging over him now.

"That sounds fine to me. Thanks for understanding. I wasn't sure you'd let me do that, that I'd just have to keep going with it. That's why I had Bev with me. I needed the support. Still feeling a little anxious about everything. He's the closest friend I've got. I'm sure you know why. Would it be alright if he stayed for a while? I've never had anyone over before. Never had anyone I wanted to bring back here before. I quite like having a friend like him," Ace said, taking Bev's hand gently.

"Sure, he can stay as long as he likes. You two just be careful. If you're going to continue with your two personas, you might want to be careful coming here in future, if you don't want anyone to suspect anything," Sandra said.

"Oh, it's okay, I said I worked up here as a stable boy. They'd never think I actually lived up here. I figured that was the best lie I could use as to why I was coming home to a bloody great big house like this," Ace said.

"It's true, I remember him telling me that soon after we first met. Figured it made as much sense as any as to why he lived up here. He's a very convincing working class lad, so no one questioned it," Bev said.

"Yeah, it's cos I used to be one," Ace said, sliding back into his broad accent.

They didn't spend much more time talking to Sandra. Ace wanted to show Bev the house, and they went off, promising they'd be back in time for dinner if they were going to go wandering. It wasn't a hard promise to keep; Ace was more than a little enamoured with the cook and her ability to create the most amazing meals ever. Dinner was not something to be missed.

Ace took him on a quick tour of the ground floor before heading upstairs to his room. There were several other bedrooms up there too, but as there were only three of them, Ace got his pick of which room he wanted once he'd outgrown his old room. It was a large room on the west side of the house. The windows overlooked the gardens and part of the woodland surrounding the estate. Ace asked not to be disturbed as they entered, and he shut the door behind them. Bev took in the grand room, with a large four poster bed and some seriously old looking furniture. Bev smiled as he spotted the record player, some records, and a few posters scattered about. A football lay tucked up under the desk, still a little grubby from the last time it was used. It might be a room in an old manor house, but it was still a teenage boy's room.

"What'd you reckon? I picked everything out myself. No creepy old paintings," Ace said.

"Yeah, I did notice that. It's very nice. Why'd you pick this room? Any reason?" Bev said.

"Oh, cos I can see the woods out there," Ace went over to the windows and pushed the curtains out of the way. "See down there past the gardens. I like riding around there."

Bev joined him, taking in the view from the first floor. "That is nice. You'll have to show me round later. I haven't ridden for a while, though."

"Later on. I wanted to spend some time with you here first. You know, just us, without mum fussing over me," Ace said.

"I like that idea. Do you think we should tell her about us at some point? Cos I'm not gonna let you go easily," Bev said as he brought him in close.

Ace hastily drew the curtains to hide them from view. He didn't want them being spotted from the window. "Oh. Maybe. Wait. Since when were we together?"

"I meant what I said last night. I love you and I want you. I really do. I know you find it hard to accept, but it's true. You're so beautiful, and you deserve to be loved properly. Would you let me love you?" Bev said, taking his hands in his.

Ace looked at him, unsure what to say. "Is this what love feels like? Why would you love me? I just can't imagine why you'd pick me over someone else."

Bev cupped his face and kissed him gently, holding back so he didn't scare him. Ace soon settled into it, allowing himself to hold Bev back as they kissed. Ace liked the way he touched him, and it took him a while to realise he hadn't pulled away at all and had even started encouraging him to touch him, eager for his affection. There was a heat rising in his chest that he didn't understand, but he liked the way Bev was holding him and he didn't want him to let him go. They reluctantly drew apart, and Bev rested his hands on his shoulders.

"Why me? Y'could have anyone you wanted. And you want me? Why? What do you see in me that's worth loving?" Ace said, searching his eyes.

Bev led him over to the bed and sat him down. Bev held his hands still, trying to bring him some confidence. Ace wasn't entirely convinced, but he trusted Bev, so he'd hear him out. Bev cupped his cheek gently, stroking a hand back through his hair and down his neck.

"I know you find it hard to see it too, and I understand why that's so hard for you, but what I see is a beautiful boy who plays excellent bass and he has the most amazing voice I've ever heard, if only he'd let the rest of the world hear it too. He has a beautiful smile, and he makes me laugh, and he keeps beating me at football. He's kind and compassionate, and doesn't look down on those below him because he sees them as equals. He's capable and intelligent, and he can do anything he wants to do. He even drives better than me. I don't care what you look like. We both have our imperfections and flaws, but they make us human. I'm going to keep saying it til you believe it because I want you to believe it too. Why shouldn't you be loved like everyone else?" Bev said softly, trying to get through to him.

Ace quickly wiped away the stray tear trickling down his cheek. Bev was making it far too hard to resist. He had spent his whole life trying to find people who would love him, and now that he had, it was all a little overwhelming. Everything Bev said about him was true. He knew that. That Bev had noticed all those things about him was mind-blowing.

"Bev, I-I really don't know what I'm doing at all. I've never - I don't know what to do. What do I do?" Ace said.

"Well, you could just go with it. I mean, we can take it slow if you're more comfortable with that, but I really want to give us a chance. Would you let me?" Bev said.

Ace thought a moment. "Yeah, I think I would. But can we go slow? I'm not used to - you know, being with someone."

"Hey, don't feel sorry about it. We've got all the time in the world," Bev said.

Ace smiled and kissed him gently. "Yeah, we do."

They lay down together as Bev brought him close. They took things slowly, Bev not wanting to upset him. They didn't fully undress, but they let their hands wander, slowing getting used to each other. Ace liked being in his arms, and that heat turned up in his chest again.

"Can you - like, can I watch you again? I liked that a lot," Ace murmured as Bev drew his tongue along his collar bone.

Bev paused and glanced at him. "Oh, yeah? You got a cock I can use? You haven't seen me do it with a cock yet."

"And you haven't seen my good ones either. Be right back," Ace said and ducked under the bed.

Bev sat up and Ace brought out a box from under the bed where he kept his more expensive prosthetics. Bev peered in, fascinated by them. There weren't many, but they were definitely better than the ones he had.

Ace took out one connected to a black leather harness. "This one's for sex, apparently. Don't tell mum I've got it though. I'm not supposed to have sex ones til I'm older."

"Wow. I didn't know you could get ones with proper harnesses. That's amazing. Where'd you get it? I want one," Bev said. He got up on his knees as he put it on, making sure it was tight enough. It felt much more secure than the one he used, which was just tied with rope because he didn't have anything else.

"I got it from America. My therapist organised it. It was really expensive though. Like, I don't know if you could afford it. That sort of expensive. I'm just lucky I have my own money I can spend that my parents don't control. Like, it's their money, but it's mine to spend. But I only get so much of it a year so I have to make it last. This house takes enough of our money as it is," Ace said.

"Wow. That's so cool. I'll have to see if I can't get some nice ones too," Bev said.

"Don't talk to mum about it til I'm old enough. I don't want her to know I've got it. Cos she'll know you heard about it from me if you do," Ace said.

"Well, it's not like I could afford it tomorrow, so don't worry. I'll wait til I've got some money to spare," Bev said. "So, want me to get started?"

"Uh, yeah, if you want," Ace said as he slid the box back under the bed.

Bev lay back against the pillows and got comfortable. Ace curled up beside him, curious about what he'd do with it. The harness was very subtle and was designed so that he wasn't lying on anything hard. The cock was longer than he was used to, but it sat nicely against his clit and didn't aggravate it as much as he thought it might. It fit very nicely against his body as if it had always been there. He shifted a little, trying to get into the best position. Stroking a hand tentatively down the shaft, he experimented with its movement, seeing what produced the most interesting sensations.

"Ooh, that's a good'un," Bev said as moved it ever so slightly upwards, pressing against his clit. He repeated the action a few times, appreciating the pleasure it brought.

Ace wondered what he was feeling, and after a while, he reached over and started stroking the shaft with him.

"Just copy what I'm doing, yeah? That's it, just keep it steady," Bev said, watching Ace's tentative movements.

"I can't believe you get pleasure from this. It's just a prosthetic. It's not real," Ace said.

"Man, if you tried it, you'd understand how good it feels. It becomes part of you. I don't know how the fuck it works, but it does. Plus, it feels really good, so I can't really complain," Bev said.

Ace thought about it, but decided it wasn't for him. "I don't know. I don't really like that sort of thing."

"More for me then," Bev grinned as he stroked himself a little faster.

Ace thought he preferred getting Bev off instead of contemplating getting himself off. He still didn't have much of a sex drive in spite of the testosterone in his system, and he wondered if he'd ever have one at all, or if he'd be stuck this way forever. Did he really mind not having sex, though? No, not really. He had his books, and his music, and other things in life he found pleasurable. He had no drive for sexual pleasure, so he sought it in other places. That was alright, wasn't it?

"You gonna keep up? Off with the fairies again, are we?" Bev teased gently as he noticed Ace's attention drifting elsewhere.

"Oh. Yes. Sorry. I was thinking about other things," Ace said as he returned to stroking the cock.

Bev was used to working with a cock, and he particularly liked the one he was using. The material transmitted the sensations to his clit very well, and with not much more effort, Bev came hard, his body tense with pleasure. Ace just curled up beside him, pondering all sorts of things. Bev held him gently, a hand still idly stroking his cock.

"Do you ever think about kids? I'm supposed to have kids. How am I supposed to have kids when I don't have - you know. It's got to be a direct descendant if he's going to inherit the title. So how am I supposed to do that apart from giving birth myself?" Ace murmured, gazing at the ceiling.

"I think you're too young to be worrying about that just yet. I can't say I've never thought about it either, but it's not a driving urge. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to be pregnant, whether it'd be the only way I'd end up with any children, but who'd accept a pregnant man? I keep forgetting I never changed my name either, and I'm still officially female as far as I can tell, if anyone even cares. It's not really something I worry about too much though. I don't know. I don't even know who I'd have children with. It's not really much of a priority at the moment," Bev said.

"Oh, I could never be pregnant. That would be disgusting. I want those bits gone as soon as possible. I don't want them anymore. Bleeding once a month was bad enough. Getting pregnant might just drive me mad. I'd never keep it. I couldn't do that. How are you so okay with thinking about that? Doesn't it jar in your head? You're a boy, aren't you?" Ace said, crinkling his nose up at the thought of falling pregnant.

Bev shrugged. "I don't think I'm so... I'm not even sure how to word it. I'm not as strictly male as you are, if that makes sense. I mean, I like being a boy, and I doubt I'd ever be a girl again, but I don't know. It makes sense in my head, you know?" He glanced at Ace. "Then again, maybe you don't."

"How can you not be that sure about it? Isn't it an absolute thing? Like you're a boy or a girl, there's no in between. That's how it works, isn't it?" Ace said. "I know I've always known I was a boy, ever since I was three or four years old."

"I don't know how it works. I don't remember knowing it like you did. But my dad died, and I had to look after my mother then. I'm not sure I'd do anything differently either. People accept me as a boy, so why should I care if maybe it's not as strictly true as they think it is? It's not like I tell them. I figure they won't understand anyway, so why bother? It's easier to say I always wanted to be a boy than risk trouble," Bev said.

Ace rolled over and looked at him curiously. He wasn't sure if he really understood. He decided to change the subject. "What happens if I don't really like sex though? What if I don't really like girls either? Like, shouldn't I be enjoying sex like you do? But I don't. I mean, it's nice, and I'd never stop you, but it's all a bit boring, to be honest. When am I supposed to start really liking it? I'm eighteen now. I'm not wrong, am I?"

Bev turned and looked at him. "I don't think you're wrong. I don't know. Maybe it's because you still hate your body. Maybe when it looks right, you'll like it better."

"Maybe."

Ace considered his words, and he thought maybe they might be true, but he couldn't shake the feeling like it wouldn't matter how much he liked his body. Bev had a much better sex drive than he did, and he was only a couple of years older than him. He didn't understand it, and he didn't feel like discussing it with his doctor either in case they thought he was deficient somehow and wanted to try and fix him. He had no faith in doctors who wanted to fix things.

"Do you want to take things slowly then? I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Bev said tentatively, reaching out to brush his hair gently.

"Maybe."

Ace let him bring him close, and he curled up against his chest, wondering if anything else was wrong with him.

* * *

 _London, April 1966_  
It had been nine months since Ace had his breasts removed. Not having to bind anymore was an amazing relief, and he was pleased that the scars weren't that obvious. They'd been able to get a good surgeon to perform the operation, and at the same time sworn him to absolute secrecy so as to conceal Ace's sex. He was still supposed to be a sixteen year old boy, the son of an Earl, and if it got out that he was just some working class lad they picked off the streets to replace their son, it would be the end of it.

They also had a new band now. Their old band hadn't been going anywhere, and with Roy and Trevor, they'd formed a new band called The Move. Ace didn't know why he felt the way he did, but he just had a feeling this one was going to go well. This band was going to take them to the top. They'd already secured a Thursday night residency at The Marquee Club in London, and it had taken some wrangling for Ace to get out of class on Friday to save him having to head back late at night and being far too tired to study properly. He wasn't fussed what excuse his mother used, just so long as he could go out and play and head back the next day.

Bev had been over to the mansion a few more times since that first visit, but they both preferred being at Bev's house, where the house was smaller, and there was more privacy. No nosey staff to accidentally walk in on them. Ace also liked having a second mother to fuss over him when his own was away. It made the loneliness easier to bear.

They were out at The Marquee Club again. Bev had always liked playing there, and while they weren't playing that night, that wouldn't stop them dropping by anyway. They'd gone down to London for the Easter break and to do a few more shows around town. Being able to play more gigs was definitely beneficial. He felt be was more properly part of the band now, rather than just that guy who fills in on weekends.

If Bev and Carl were good for anything, it was keeping Ace sober. They didn't care if he smoked, but Bev at least was aware of Ace's other life, and he didn't want him making an idiot of himself. Ace usually didn't mind. Sometimes, he thought they were being overprotective, but he understood Bev's concerns, and coming home stinking of cigarettes and piss was bad enough. His mother didn't approve at all, and Ace had a feeling he'd be pushing her kindness if he fucked up any more. He still didn't like what alcohol did to his brain, so he was reluctant to touch the stuff, but that was beside the point.

There were times when Ace felt out of his depth, and he'd spotted a few posh boys he'd been introduced to a few times as well, and he'd ducked out of the way so he wasn't recognised. London was much bigger than Birmingham, and it was more likely he'd run into people he knew. It was a risk, sure, but he figured the lighting in the club was bad enough he might not be easily recognised.

Heading back to the flat the band were staying in well after midnight, Bev took the opportunity to pull Ace aside and grab the double bed first, leaving the rest to take what was left. Their relationship had only deepened, and while Ace was still mostly indifferent to sex, they'd begun to make their varying sex drives work for both of them so they both got something out of it. Ace liked watching Bev masturbating, and it seemed to suffice. Bev just liked showing off, and it made it easier to get one off when they were showering, or in some other convenient location. Certainly less messy as well, and there was no risk of pregnancy.

The main bedroom had an en suite, and it was exploited ruthlessly. Locking the bedroom door, they stripped and headed off to shower. It had a bath as well, but they didn't fill it. The hot water flowed down over them, and they shared a kiss. Ace was much more comfortable in his skin now, though he still didn't like touching himself as it still wasn't right down there. Bev wasn't so concerned, and he leant back against the wall as a hand slowly moved between his legs. Ace joined him this time, pressing against him gently.

"Show me how you do it," Ace whispered as he moved his hand over Bev's, linking their fingers together.

"Oh, aye? Keen, are we? Just," Bev moved his hand into place, "just like that, yeah, just stroke it gently."

Ace followed his lead, watching for his reactions as he moved his fingers. Bev leant his head back against the wall, becoming lost in the pleasure. Ace was a fast learner, and Bev held him close as he worked him hard, teasing an orgasm out of him with enough effort. The water crashed down around them, and Ace curled up next to him, letting the water wash over him. He had no desire to come himself, but Bev was happy, and that was all that mattered.

"What does it feel like to be in love?" Ace said.

Bev glanced at him curiously. "You know it when it happens. It's hard to describe. Why?"

Ace didn't reply immediately. "I dunno. Jus' - if I'm not interested in sex, how am I 'sposed to know what love is? I can't work it out. Cos I don't know if I ever really want to be with anyone, maybe apart from you. Can I even fall in love? I'm gonna have to get married one day, have kids an' all, but how can I do that when I don't know what love's supposed to feel like? I don't really feel at all confident about all that."

"I wish I had some answers for you. All I know is that I'd be willing to have kids for you, if that's what was needed. I'm not sure how they'd manage that, but I'm willing to be a surrogate. And you realise that if you're supposed to have kids, you're going to need to keep your bits a bit longer. So they can be proper descendants," Bev said.

"Shit. I will, won't I? Damn. I hadn't thought about that. There are days when I'd give anything to be a commoner again, y'know?" Ace said.

"Mate, you're pretty damn lucky to have what you have. I'd wouldn't give it up lightly, even if it's hard and has many responsibilities that come with it," Bev said.

"I know. I'm more than a little aware of that. I won't give it up, but it's still hard. Would you really surrogate for me? Why would you do that?" Ace said.

Bev shrugged. "I've still got my uterus and my ovaries. If I go off testosterone for a while, my cycle should start up again, or so I'm told. It's probably not something you could ever deal with, but I can do that. I figured you might appreciate someone you know carrying your children, rather than some stranger. Besides, I could have one for my mother so she can stop worrying she'll never be a grandmother."

"I think I'd rather think about this later when I've got some stability in my life. I'm not ready to think about this right now," Ace said.

Bev pressed a kiss to his head. "Come on then, let's get into bed. We've got to be off fairly early tomorrow, remember?"

Ace hadn't remembered. "Fucking hell. Who decided that anyway?"

"I believe that was Charlie's idea. Bitch to him when he gets us up before nine," Bev said.

Ace promised he would. Bev turned the water off, and once dry, they headed to bed. Ace thought about talking some more, but he was very tired, and with Bev gently stroking his hair, he soon fell asleep, dreaming about children and pregnant men.


	3. Don't Mess Me Up 1967-1974

_Birmingham, October 15th, 1967_  
Ace stood by the canal. His mind was a haze of thought, terrified and panicked. He had a newspaper tucked up under one arm, the latest edition of the Birmingham Evening Mail, and though he wanted to throw it into the water, he just couldn't let it go. He didn't dare look behind him in case those men in suits were still following him. They knew everything. That was how the paper found out, wasn't it? They knew everything too. Ace and Thomas were no longer separate people. The whole city would know the truth now, and his father would be so ashamed at what he'd done. The Move had become too famous and now they were going to be destroyed.

He hadn't meant to run, he was just trying to leave the stage before he got mobbed by fans, but then he'd seen the paper on a table backstage, and everything stopped. He wasn't sure what to do. Did they all know? He wasn't sure. He thought he'd seen some of the suits who'd been following him for the past month, and they were closing in. Maybe they knew too. Maybe he should run. So he ran.

He couldn't move. He couldn't even fling himself into the canal to save his father the embarrassment. There were voices in his head now, telling him to jump, but he was too scared of them to listen to what they were saying. He'd never heard voices before, not like that. So he just stood there, paper under his arm, frozen in fear. He had no idea what was happening to him. His mind had broken.

He thought he could hear them creeping up on him, creeping through the grass, but whenever he turned around, he saw nothing. An owl hooted. Ace ducked, hoping the bird wasn't spying on him. He wasn't sure he could trust anyone anymore. His bandmates would notice he was gone eventually, but he didn't want to see them. He didn't even want to see Bev. Only Bev knew his secrets. That must be how they knew. The realisation stung, and he wondered what he'd done to deserve such betrayal.

He screamed at the moon instead, unable to voice his anger any other way. The moon responded with a roar, and the owl hooted again.

* * *

Trevor was the first to notice he'd gone as he followed him backstage in a bid to escape the chaos. As the club turned into something resembling a riot, he grabbed Bev aside and told him he'd seen Ace running from the club into the night. It didn't appear to be anything unusual given the chaos inside, but as he tried to find him backstage, Trevor noticed him pick up a newspaper, gazing at the front page before fleeing in fear. Trevor was sure that was what triggered it, though Bev wasn't so confident. They'd looked for the paper, but it had vanished. Unsure what he'd do, Bev agreed they should go look for him anyway, and they drove around the streets, hoping to find him before he did something stupid.

"Did he take anything? Trevor? You listening to me?" Bev said, taking a second to slap his bandmate as they drove.

Trevor turned to look at him. "I dunno, man. I didn't - I didn't see anything. He was fine. I- he had a couple of beers, I think? Fucking rainbows. I don't even know anymore."

"Fucking rainbows?"

Trevor ran a hand through his hair as he tried to remember. "Yeah, I think that's what he said. I don't know, man. You saw it back there. You try to hear something clearly when everyone's fucking screaming like that. Shit."

"I hope he's alright, that's all I'm saying," Bev said, searching the road as they drove.

* * *

There was something in his hand. He didn't know what. He didn't even know where it'd come from either. He'd run into someone as he'd left the club, but he didn't remember taking something either. He tried to focus on it, but his vision was too blurry. It could've been pill-shaped. Maybe it was just the moonlight. Maybe it was nothing at all.

He heard something off to his right, and turned a little to see if it was something dangerous. Maybe it was the suits again. He saw nothing, and a voice suggested the pill was meant to control him. They'd set him up and he'd wake up somewhere else, drugged out of his mind. He'd tell them everything then of his own volition and they'd destroy him.

Ace nearly believed them, and he almost threw the thing away, but he stopped himself as an owl hooted again. Those bloody owls were following him everywhere, and he ducked again to avoid being seen, fingers clasped firmly around the pill, which had now turned a terrible shade of red.

Oh, he was bleeding now. His hand hurt, and he tried to shake the blood away, but it wouldn't move. He blinked and the blood was gone. There was nothing in his hand anymore. Knowing he should run, he turned and fled, unsure where he was heading. The paper dropped from his arm, and it lay there on the dewy grass, forgotten.

* * *

"Canals? Why would he go to the canals?"

They'd already driven around as much of north Birmingham as they could, and Trevor suggested going south.

"I dunno. He's snapped, alright? He's gone an' flipped, and we'd better find him, that's all I'm saying," Trevor said.

"You don't know that. Maybe he's just hiding out somewhere til it's safe to go home. You've seen the girls chasing after us before. You know he's never coped all that well with that. He's probably trying to avoid being mobbed," Bev said, trying to be rational about the situation.

"I know what I saw. He was fucking terrified. Like, not normally scared. It was more than that. He wasn't scared about the chaos, he was scared about something else. Just trust me on this, alright?"

Bev wasn't sure he was right, but he hadn't seen him leave, so maybe he was right. It was better than nothing so he headed south. He just hoped Trevor was right.

* * *

Ace had climbed a tree. Perched behind the branches, he was sure the suits wouldn't find him there. He could hear them following him. Their footsteps were loud on the grass, and the sound was deafening. It had started raining as well, and he stayed as close to the trunk as he could, trying to stay as dry as possible.

He wasn't sure where he was. He'd just been following a voice who'd said they knew a safe place to hide. He wasn't sure he trusted the voice now. It had led him to a bloody tree, and those suits were still tailing him. He clutched his hands over his ears every time he heard an owl hooting, convinced they could read his mind. They were spying on him, they had to be, as they kept following him no matter where he ran.

A fairy flitted about his head, and the light shimmered all around him. Terrified of being discovered, he batted the creature away, not wanting any light around to give up his position. It still sung to him anyway, and Ace just got scared. Obviously it was trying to give away his position. He wasn't about to let some fairy sell him out.

He lay still as he heard the suits approaching. They were calling to him, but he wouldn't let them find him. The trunk of the tree opened up and swallowed him whole. No one would ever find him there, and he huddled in the darkness, praying he wouldn't be found. They couldn't hurt him inside a tree. He pressed his hands over his ears and screamed, trying to block out the noise in his head as he prayed to the tree spirit to save him.

* * *

Trawling canals wasn't as much fun as it seemed. Half the time they couldn't get near them, and the other times, they were bathed in darkness and narrowboats. He could be anywhere and they didn't have time on their side.

"I'm telling you, go south. Round where he used to live. Yardley, wasn't it? Look, I know what this shit does to you. He'll try to find somewhere safe. Go south, and search the canals. Pray we find him alive before the cops find him dead."

"Alright, but you'd better be right."

Trevor nodded sagely. "I promise you, I'll buy you a pint if I'm wrong."

"Can we not bet beer on this, please? He could be in serious trouble."

Trevor did see his point and apologised, gazing out the window again as he tried to see if Ace was there amongst all the other things he could see. He really shouldn't have been doing this when he was high, but it wasn't like he had much choice. He shuddered a little as a shadow passed over the footpath, growling at him menacingly. It jumped out of the footpath, but the car rushed past it and it was soon left behind.

* * *

The voices were getting louder. He tried to drown them out by screaming at them, but they didn't leave so he'd fled from the tree and looked for somewhere much safer. He wasn't sure where he was. It was hard to navigate at night when your vision doesn't work properly. Everything looked gloriously decrepit, and he wished he was in a better state of mind to enjoy it.

He was sure the suits were still following him. They knew everything. They knew he was a Viscount, not a poor working class lad with nowhere else to go. They knew he was a poor kid, pretending to be rich. They knew he wasn't a real boy. They knew everything. Everything. Bev had told them. He was the only one who knew his secrets. He would kill him when he saw him next so he couldn't tell any more secrets. He couldn't be trusted anymore.

He crashed into someone. He struggled to get free, but they held him firmly, trying to calm him down. He wasn't strong enough to fight them, and the man's voice was gentle as he stroked his hair softly. Ace just burst into tears, unable to work out who he was supposed to be.

"Shh, just settle down. You're all wired, aren't ya? Psychotic episode, right? Had a few of those meself. Come on, lad, it'll be alright. I'll keep them away," the man said.

Ace didn't understand what he was talking about, but he couldn't leave him. They were bound together, he could feel it, as if their bodies had melded together like glue. He gave up fighting him, though it didn't stop the voices. Crazy like your father!, they said, laughing at him viciously. One sounded like his mother, and he whimpered in fear, terrified that she had found him after so many years. She joined in the chorus, decrying his descent into madness.

"No, 'm not crazy, I can't be mad, I'm nothing like him, I swear. I'm not crazy, it was-"

They just laughed at him again. He shivered, and strong arms closed around him, holding him tightly.

"Let me go. Let me go. Let me go. Why won't you go away?" Ace said. He felt he was drowning in a pool of mud. Maybe even quicksand. He couldn't escape.

He heard his dad's voice in his head, trying to comfort him, but the other voices scorned him and Ace couldn't hear him after that.

* * *

Trevor wasn't sure he was concentrating properly. He was getting sleepy, and Bev was talking about something. He drifted off, and the last thing he heard was fucking rainbows again. Fucking acid. Fucking Ace for running off too. Fuck the cops. Fuck their stupid manager for pissing off the Prime Minister. Fuck MI5. Fuck all this shit. He was tired of it all.

Bev knew he was asleep, and left him to it. He'd be no help anyway. Maybe he should double back and get Carl, but he was up north. Too far to go just to come back here. He'd just have to make do. He hadn't seen any sign of Ace yet, and they pulled up alongside another canal, seeing if there was any sign he'd been there. He hoped he wouldn't find a body floating in the water.

Getting out to investigate, he found a newspaper on the ground. Soaking wet, he managed to make out the front page headline. He suddenly understood why Ace had fled. Gazing at the grass again, he could see some faint footprints leading back the way they'd come. It might not be where he went, but what else did he have to go on? Bringing the newspaper with him, he got back in the car and drove off, following the faint prints.

He shoved Trevor as they drove, and he woke with a start as Bev flung the wet newspaper at him. "What? Did you find 'im then?"

"No, but that's why he fled. I think he's gone this way. Keep an eye out, will you? I just hope we're not too late," Bev said.

Trevor nodded and sat up, peering out the window. He really had to pay attention now. He glanced at the newspaper, and finally he understood. He didn't understand everything, but he understood why he'd run away, even if half the letters had started dancing on the page together in some sort of soggy tango.

* * *

Ace was wet, and freezing cold. Someone was wrapping a blanket around him, and he was sat in the back of an ambulance, shivering. It looked like an ambulance anyway. Lots of coloured flashing lights and whatnot. He had no idea what had happened to him, and the voices in his head weren't telling him anything. They were resolutely silent, no matter how loudly he screamed in his head. Had they gone? Had they really fucking gone? Or had they just gone dormant, ready to come back when he least expected it?

Someone sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Ace didn't move. He had no idea what was going on. There were some blinding white lights approaching, and Ace was sure he was about to be killed. The suits had obviously found him, and instead of just taking him in, they'd have him taken out. That happened to people who pissed off the Prime Minister, Ace was sure of it. If he'd had the energy to move, he'd have done so and tried to escape, but he just sat there shivering, his face blank and emotionless.

"Ace. Ace, can you hear me? It's Bev. Ace. Is he okay?"

The words were meaningless. So was the answer. He tried to talk, but nothing came out right. The only language he could find in his head was Latin. That must be it. That must be why they can't understand him. He was an ancient Roman who had been caught by British tribesmen and they were about to kill him. That's why they were picking him up and putting him into some sort of cage. He lay there on the floor, eyes wide with fear. Caesar would not be pleased at all. No, no he would not.

* * *

Trevor sat in the back with him, cradling him gently. Ace was muttering in some foreign language, least that's what it sounded like. They'd found him alone sitting on a park bench a few streets away from the club they'd been playing in. He was shivering with cold. He hadn't spoken a word of English since they'd found him, and they had no idea what had happened to him. He was, however, not soaking wet, allaying their fears he'd jumped into the canals. That brought them some relief.

"I'm taking him home. That alright? How's he doing?" Bev said, glancing at them in the rear-view mirror.

"Still same as he was when we picked him up. You sure we shouldn't take him to hospital? I ain't never seen him like this before. I'm scared. What if those suits messed with him?" Trevor said.

"Why would they do that? I know why he ran, but I'm not sure now's the time to talk about that. It's a long story. Do you really think he's that bad, though? Should we go to hospital instead?" Bev said.

Trevor tried not to look too worried. "You and I both know he's not into drugs. You know this isn't normal. I don't know what he took, if he took anything at all, and I ain't never seen anyone like this before, so yes, I'd say that might be a better idea. They'd know what to do, yeah? Besides, he might die if we just drop him home or something, right? Like, he could be overdosing or something."

"Alright. I know I couldn't live with myself if he died on us. But after that, I'm getting his parents. You can come if you like, it's not like it won't be public knowledge by the morning anyway," Bev said.

"Don't follow. What are you on about?"

"I thought you read the damn article?" Trevor gave him a blank look. Bev sighed. "I'll tell you on the way there. Just make sure he's okay."

Trevor wasn't confident he had the skills to do that, but he looked down at him again, and Ace was still talking gibberish. Trevor tried not to show exactly how worried he was about him.

 

 _Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Edgbaston, Birmingham, October 16th 1967_  
The hospital's A&E was particularly busy that night, but Bev and Trevor weren't there long. One look at Ace, and they were told they might be better off down at the psych ward. Bev thought they were probably right, but that didn't mean he liked it. That wasn't a good sign at all.

Heading down there as quickly as they could, they had better luck there. It was well after midnight, and the place was quiet, but they were tended to quickly, and the nurse was willing to give him a bed for the night and see if he got any better. They'd see how he was once he was able to talk.

"D'you mind if we go get his parents now? They'll want to know he's here," Bev said.

"Oh, sure, I'll get him comfortable. What's his name, then, so I can check him in?" the nurse replied.

Bev went to reply, but he saw the newspaper on the desk. "That's him there," he said, indicating the paper's front page. "Just don't tell anyone he's here, yeah? He's got enough to deal with as it is."

The nurse was a little surprised, but she did know then who he was. "Alright, leave it with me."

"Also, I shouldn't even be telling you this without his permission, but I think he'd understand, given the circumstances," Bev said before leaning in to whisper in her ear, not wishing to tell Trevor as well.

She nodded, understanding his situation. "Bring him through here, will you? I'm the only one on duty at the moment and I could use your help."

Bev followed, carrying Ace gently. Trevor was close behind them, and he tried not to make it obvious he was still high too. That wouldn't be a great look. It was a creepy sort of place, Trevor thought, all these crazy people lying asleep in their beds. He tried not to let his discomfort show.

"He's not going to hurt himself, is he? Only if he is, we'd better put him in a secure ward instead," the nurse said as she looked at the boy lying limp in Bev's arms.

"No idea. He doesn't seem to be hurt at all, just lost in his mind. We don't know if he's taken any drugs either, or if he's just flipped for no reason," Bev said.

"I think we'd better go for the secure ward, just in case. At least then, we can be sure he won't hurt himself, even if all he does is lie there," she said.

Bev didn't like leaving him there, but what else could they do? He wasn't restrained, but he lay in the middle of the padded room, lost in his mind. He was still muttering quietly to himself, but it seemed less urgent now, as if he was coming out of it. He'd been given a sedative, something to calm his mind, but he'd thrashed about at the sudden pain, and Bev had had to help restrain him as the nurse was struggling to hold him down on her own.

"Wait. That's not gibberish. That's Latin. I'm pretty sure he's speaking Latin," Bev said as he caught a few words he understood.

"Latin? How does he know Latin?" Trevor said.

Bev shrugged. "Well, he learnt it at school like I did, probably. It's not great Latin, he's mixing up words and tenses every now and then, but it's definitely Latin."

Trevor looked sceptical. "Well, go on then. Is he saying anything?"

"Nah, it might be Latin, but with all the mistakes, it's not really making sense. Well. It sort of is, but not enough to say for sure what he actually means. He keeps saying, 'I'm not crazy' and I think that's meant to be 'gods understand all things'. At least, I think that's what he's saying. I don't think he needs that sum in there, I don't think scire is quite the right word, and he's used the wrong declension for deliro. The rest is garbled. Phrases all mixed up and making no sense at all," Bev said.

"Bloody hell. He really did flip, didn't he? What are we going to do with him?" Trevor said, beginning to panic.

"That's not really up to us to decide. Come on, there's nothing we can do for him now. We'll go get his parents and tell them what happened," Bev said.

 

 _Four Oaks Hall, Four Oaks, Sutton Coldfield, October 15th, 1967_  
Bev had explained Ace's situation to Trevor as they drove, just so he wasn't surprised by the giant manor house they were about to go to. Trevor was still suitably impressed, though he'd never guessed that was where Ace lived. Ace was too convincingly lower class.

Bev had no trouble with the gate, Ace had shown him how to get in, and they drove up towards the house. The house was dark. Hardly surprising, since everyone was supposed to be asleep. It took several minutes before a startled maid opened the door to them. It wasn't strictly proper, but she had woken first, so she felt it was her duty to answer the bell.

"What business have you here at this hour?" she asked.

"It's about his Lordship the Viscount. He's in some trouble. I'd ask you to wake his Lordship the Earl and the Countess. He needs them right now," Bev said, hoping he'd remembered the right forms of address.

"Oh, I really shouldn't, it's so late, he doesn't like to be woken-"

The maid was interrupted by Sandra, the Countess, coming down the stairs with a torch in hand. "What's going on? Bev, what are you doing here? Where's Thomas? Is he alright?"

"No, your Ladyship, he's not alright. He's in trouble. We've left him at the hospital. I'd beg you to come as soon as you can. He needs you," Bev said.

Sandra wasted no time after that. She asked for a moment to dress before she left with them as they drove back to the hospital. Trevor let her have the front seat, and tried to work out how he'd come to be sitting in a car with a Countess. It had become a very strange evening indeed.

Bev told her everything he knew as they drove, and his suspicions as to what had triggered it. Sandra wasn't surprised. She had noticed he'd become more agitated during the past few months, but hadn't brought it up with him as he hadn't wanted to talk. She was his mother, not his therapist, and it didn't feel right to interrogate her only son like that.

 

 _Psych Ward, Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Edgbaston, Birmingham, October 16th, 1967_  
Ace was aware someone was holding him, but he wasn't sure who. He was being cradled in someone's arms, and he could see a kind face above him, but he couldn't speak. He had no idea what the woman was saying to him. Maybe she was from a barbaric British tribe too. But then she started saying words he could understand, and Ace wondered what on earth was going on. Maybe she was a translator. Maybe she would help save him from uncertain death from British tribesmen intent on killing a Roman citizen.

"Who are you?" Ace asked. Latin appeared to be the only language he could understand and speak.

She smiled. "I'm your mother. What happened, love? Why are you so distressed?"

Ace almost didn't answer as he struggled to find the right words, but she stroked his cheek softly and the words flowed out. He told her everything, though how much sense it made he wasn't sure. He wanted to come out of this craziness, but he didn't know how. His mind was a terrible haze, and he kept seeing things that weren't there. The voices were still silent though. Maybe they wouldn't come back again.

"If it helps at all, I suspected he's schizotypal, but I haven't sought a formal diagnosis yet because I didn't want to distress him further," the woman, his mother, said.

Ace didn't understand that. She wasn't speaking his language anymore. There were other voices, but they weren't in his head. Maybe the voices were audible now, outside his head and waiting to control him. All he could think about was when his father had talked about voices. He was sure he'd only pretended to hear them when he was a kid, but now he wasn't so sure. Was his mother right? Was he really crazy like his father? He had prayed so hard that would never come true. What was he supposed to do now?

The voices talked some more. Lots of big words. He didn't understand them. Lots of strange foreign words. They could've been plotting his death for all he knew, scheming to murder him and bury him in the wood, all cut up into pieces. But then he began to understand a word here and there. Not big words, but random words. The. He heard 'the' and understood it. Then 'Thomas'. That was a name. He wasn't sure if it belonged to him or if it was the name of one of the voices. No one enlightened him.

There was no pattern and it took a long time before he understood everything again. It was a novel experience, being able to understand people around him. He tried to speak again, but they looked at him strangely and told him they couldn't understand him. He tried again. Still nothing. He tried Latin. That had worked last time. His mother told him he wasn't making sense. Ace just got frustrated. He couldn't be understood, and didn't know how to talk to them. He pulled away from her and sat up, trying to think clearly enough to speak properly.

Ace tried again, forcing the words out as he drew out the letters on the floor, watching them come to life as he sang them. He hoped the song magic might finally work. "I'm not crazy. They know everything. They read my mind, I know they did. Please, make it stop."

When they replied, and said they understood, he settled a little. There was more talking, Ace wasn't really listening, and eventually, he began to feel very sleepy and calm. After that, he couldn't remember a thing that had happened.

 

 _Psych Ward, Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Edgbaston, Birmingham, November 1st, 1967_  
Ace had been there for over two weeks now. After the first few days, everything seemed to settle down completely. No more hallucinations, no more voices, no more strange sensations he couldn't understand. Well, no, they did turn up occasionally, but they were easy enough to ignore, and the voices were benign now, rather than malicious and cruel. He was safe now anyway, so maybe the panic had subsided.

He hadn't really remembered much, but he'd had a lot of therapy. He went through three counsellors before he found one he could trust, and then he began to make progress. He wanted to be out of there, he didn't like being in hospital, but the doctor reassured him it was just to make sure his symptoms didn't return. Ace wasn't on any medication bar a mild sedative that appeared to calm him when distressed as antipsychotics didn't seem to have any effect on him, and in one case, they just made things much worse. Ace didn't like that at all, but at least he could stop worrying they were secretly trying to control him with truth drugs.

Bev and Carl had dropped by to see him too, but they hadn't really talked much. Ace didn't really know what to say to them so he'd sat there while Bev talked about football and the band, and told him stupid stories that made him laugh. And then Bev had brought him into a gentle hug, and pressed a soft kiss to his head, and Ace began to feel alive again. He smiled, and Bev promised he'd be out of there soon.

The band had gone on an indefinite hiatus. They had refused to tour without Ace, so they'd fired their manager, telling him to go find another band to boss about. For once in their lives, they had nothing to do. Sure, they practiced every now and then, but everyone knew they were waiting for Ace to return, as they were sure he would, and only then would they think about what to do next.

Ace liked that idea and he appreciated their loyalty. Bev had brought him a guitar, and he had enjoyed playing it in the common room, finding some peace come to his mind. It had to be locked up at night with the nurses, because it had strings, but Ace wasn't going to play it at night anyway, so he didn't mind. But he did spend half an hour cleaning it every morning, making sure it was still in perfect condition. It was the one thing that made it bearable.

He hoped it would be the last time he stayed in hospital. He wasn't sure he needed to come back. As the weeks progressed, and the stress he'd been under dissipated, his mind cleared, and he was able to function normally. Only then was he able to more objectively scrutinise what had happened and realised how close he'd come to killing himself. His father had nearly done that once. He'd nearly toppled off a bridge over a river. Ace hoped he'd never try that again. The whole experience had shaken him greatly and he kept gazing at his father's lighter, promising over and over not to go mad like him. He was desperate to keep his promise to him and have a better life.

He hadn't heard about the fallout from the article in the newspaper, destroying the illusion that Ace was some working class kid from Yardley Wood. He wasn't sure he cared, though. Apparently some of the other local bands had taken it rather badly, but the fact that he'd had some sort of mental breakdown the same night the article came out did rather bring him some sympathy. It was better than nothing. Better than outright hatred. He'd even had a few letters, written by sympathetic fans. Bev had brought them, and Ace pinned them to the wall in his room. He smiled at them every time he saw them; they were a reminder that the whole world didn't actually hate him.

 

 _Four Oaks Hall, Four Oaks, Sutton Coldfield, January 1968_  
Ace watched the last of the moving vans head down the driveway as they headed south east. He was a little sad to be leaving the big estate, but his parents were right. It was costing far too much money, so they'd reluctantly sold it on and had bought a much smaller country estate just outside Coventry. It wasn't a working farm anymore, but there was room for the horses and plenty of peace and quiet.

Everything felt strange. With the band on indefinite hiatus still, he had nothing to occupy his time with now. He'd only been out of hospital a few weeks too, he'd come home in time for Christmas, but he was feeling better about the whole thing. He hadn't relapsed, which had given him some strength and confidence that it had been a one-off thing, brought on by far too much stress. He still had a prescription for the sedative that had calmed him, and it brought him comfort to know he had that if he needed it. Simplifying his life was more than helpful, and if it meant taking longer to finish with school and college, then so be it. Anything to avoid the same thing happening again.

He was pleased he was always read as male now, though. It wasn't even that he hadn't been read as male before then as everyone had accepted him as male anyway. But the changes in his appearance made him more confident and comfortable in his own skin. His face had changed enough for it to be convincing, and if he kept a little bit of stubble there, it worked wonders. He still didn't like his hips, though. He was still a skinny bastard as much as his parents had tried to fatten him up a little. He just didn't have the right sort of metabolism for that, it seemed. His hip bones protruded in a most annoying manner, and unless he wore the right clothes, they looked too feminine. There were some things not even testosterone could fix.

He still hadn't had a hysterectomy either. Bev was right, he'd need to keep his reproductive organs until he had at least one male heir of his own, and that wasn't something he wanted to think about at all. How was he supposed to have children anyway? His parents hadn't been able to answer that particular question in any reasonable manner, and Ace just got frustrated by it. He was adamant he would not fall pregnant himself, and had told Sandra this as well. No, some other method would have to be found, because there were only so many things Ace was willing to do for a stupid title he hadn't ever really wanted in the first place.

He hadn't seen his dad in years, though. He'd tried to keep up the visits, but one day, when he rang to see if he was there, he was told he'd stopped coming, and that they weren't sure what had happened to him. Ace thought about going home to see if he'd finally got to the stage where he could live at home all the time now, but he didn't want to confront his real mother either, so he stayed away, hoping nothing bad had happened to him. He thought about him every time he lit up, his dad's lighter proving very reliable after all these years. Ace took good care of it. It was the only link he had to the only family member who'd ever given a shit about him. It reminded him where he came from. No one was more aware of his privilege than him, he felt, and he did everything he could to make sure he didn't come across as an arrogant prick.

"Thomas, will you hurry up? We were supposed to leave before the movers," Sandra said as she came up beside him.

Ace sighed and picked up his last two bags. "I never thought I'd say it, but I'm going to miss this place."

"We all are, love, but we didn't have much choice. At least there'll be more money for you once we're gone. This old place is the National Trust's responsibility now. It was the only way I could get your father to agree, so at least the heritage is intact now," Sandra said.

"Why didn't we want to still live here? Wasn't that part of the agreement?" Ace said.

"We thought about it, but we didn't think it would feel like a home anymore. I thought you'd recover better in a smaller place anyway, so we declined, sold up, and bought elsewhere. It'll be refurbished properly now, and it's not like we can't come back and see it once it's done. Are you all packed then?" Sandra said.

Ace indicated the bags he held. "Yeah, these were the last two. Are all the horses coming with us too? I still want to be able to ride."

"We've got room for them all, yes. I'd never hear the end of it if I gave up even one of those horses. Your father loves them too. You should go riding together," Sandra said.

"I would, but you know I don't like hunting. That does limit the opportunities for riding together. I wish he'd just let me take him for a ride around the estate, but it's not his thing. Plus, he's hardly ever here anyway," Ace said.

Bev pulled up at the driveway then, just as the trucks left. He headed down the drive towards the house once they'd gone, and he found Ace just finishing loading his things into his mother's car.

"You lot shifting out without telling me? Got too big to manage, hey?" Bev said as he approached.

"Yeah, something like that. We've got this small place in the country now, just outside Coventry. Wanna come see it? We're heading there now. Got room for the horses and everything," Ace said.

"Sure, if your mother doesn't mind," Bev said.

"Follow us in the car. We could use your help unpacking. Charles has conveniently arranged to be away in London today so you'll have to do. Dinner's on us. How does that sound?" Sandra said.

"That'd be wonderful, your Ladyship. Don't worry, I don't mind a bit of heavy lifting. Got anything else to pack, or is that it? Anything else I can help with while I'm here?" Bev said.

"I'm pretty sure that's it, at least for my things. Mum, mind if I go with him? Since he's here and all," Ace said.

Sandra smiled. "Sure, go on. You can help him if you happen to get lost."

Bev took that as an insult and then as a challenge, and he and Ace got in the car, waiting for Sandra to move out in front of them. Following close behind them, they left the big old mansion behind for the last time.

 

 _Bev's house, Sparkhill, Birmingham, March 1968_  
It was the first time The Move had met officially since Ace's breakdown. Ace had given them his blessing to continue without him, but it had taken all Carl's energy to make them agree. None of them wanted to leave him behind, but he'd insisted, and they were under increasing pressure to do something with the band, even if it was to announce they were breaking up. They'd put off making a decision partly because they had several offers of record deals and other managers vying for their attention. It was all a little too much and no one was offering any sensible advice to help them make the right decision.

Still, the back room felt empty without Ace there with them. They went through some of their songs, but the energy just wasn't there anymore. Trevor sunk down into the sofa, staring at the floor. He'd taken over bass guitar duties very reluctantly and still insisted he was filling in until Ace came back. Carl tried to spur them on, but even he could sense it was different now.

"I can't do it without him. I just can't. It's not right," Trevor said. He stood and walked out into the backyard.

Roy sat there, idly playing his guitar, and he looked up in surprise. "What's going on? Did we decide anything?"

Bev stood up. "Shut up, Roy. You weren't there. You didn't see him that night. Trev's right. I can't do this anymore, not without Ace. That's why we stopped in the first place. We said we wouldn't do this without him."

"We can't wait for him. He said we should go on without him anyway. What more do you need?" Carl said.

"I want Ace back, that's what," Bev said. "Fuck this. I won't do it without him."

Carl called after him as he left, but Bev ignored him. He joined Trevor outside. Remus approached them hopefully, cricket ball in his mouth. Bev threw the half-chewed ball for him, watching him dash off after it.

"What are we going to do? It isn't right to go on without him. I don't care if he said so. We've been through too much, y'know?" Trevor said.

"I know. He's doing alright now, you know. Maybe one day he'll come back and play with us again," Bev said hopefully.

Trevor didn't believe a word of it. "He won't come back. Pissed off too many people. Some people don't care, y'know, but many did. They expect me to be angry about it, but I can't. I just don't care what they say anymore. They didn't see him that night. They don't understand anything. I'm standing by him, and I know you will too."

Remus looked up at Trevor expectantly, but he passed. Bev took the ball again and threw it. Remus disappeared into the bushes against the fence.

"It's all bullshit. They don't give a shit cos apparently he lied to them. Tried to pretend he was one of them. If only they knew the truth. But I can't say anything. I'm sworn to secrecy on that particular issue," Bev said.

Trevor gave him a curious look. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Can't tell you. Sorry. I really am. But the stakes are too high and I don't want to put Ace in any more danger. You care enough to respect his privacy, don't you?" Bev said.

Trevor shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. "Yeah, yeah I do. At least he's got you on his side."

"Look, I would tell you, but honestly, the fewer people who know the better. My mum doesn't even know, and she adores him. It's not personal, I'm just trying to protect him. We're all he's got out here," Bev said.

"It's okay, I understand. Maybe one day he'll tell me," Trevor said.

They glanced back as they heard Carl and Roy arguing - Roy was even arguing back for once, but didn't bother going in. Remus sat at their feet, still eagerly waiting for someone to throw the cricket ball.

"I'm sick of this. I just wanna play with Ace again. Why can't we leave them and make our own band? Fuck Carl and Roy and all their bullshit," Trevor said, kicking at the grass.

"Roy wants to do something else anyway. You can tell he doesn't care about this anymore. Let him go, and we'll go do our own thing. Then we'll all be happy," Bev said.

"If only it was that simple," Trevor said as he heard Roy storming out.

 

 _Jeff's local pub, Shard End, Birmingham, July 1968_  
Roy'd invited Bev out for a drink, just to catch up, or so he'd said. Bev wasn't sure what he wanted to talk to him about, but he went anyway. Ace was in London with his mother, so he was free for the moment. They hadn't decided what to do with The Move yet either, and rumour was that Roy really was going to jump ship. It didn't necessarily leave the rest of them with nothing to do, but Carl wasn't prepared to do anything until they knew what Roy was going to do. It was another reason Bev had decided to go. Carl had asked him to see if he could suss out Roy's plans.

They met about eight and Roy ushered him in. Bev wasn't expecting to see Jeff there, though, and he watched him greet Roy with interest. Truth be told, Bev didn't know him that well. They'd met a few times here and there, but Jeff was more friendly with Roy so they'd never spent that much time together. Jeff greeted him just as happily, shaking Bev's hand.

"Y'don't mind Jeff joining us, do you? Only we were going to meet here anyway," Roy said.

"It's no problem. You can stop looking so apologetic about it," Bev said.

Roy apologised for that, and Bev just rolled his eyes. Some things never change. Jeff did get the first round, though, and Roy led them to what was possibly the smallest corner of the pub where he could hide away from everyone else. Bev didn't bother trying to sit and just leant against the wall.

"It really is only made for two, isn't it?" Bev said, observing the way they were sat together, squashed against the wall.

"It's cosy. An' no one can see us here," Roy said, trying to justify the spot.

Bev could see that quite well. "I hear you two are up to something big. You ever going to tell us what that is?"

Roy smiled as Jeff whispered to him. Roy nudged him in the ribs in retaliation. "Uh, we're still working on it. It's not ready yet," Roy said.

"Are you even still interested in our band? You're holding us back, you know," Bev said.

Roy shifted uncomfortably. "I - maybe. I've got a lot of things I want to do. I don't know if I need you yet."

"I'd like to have him. A drummer like him'd be great," Jeff said.

"I don't know. Aren't you doing something with Ace? Would you really want to join us? We don't even have a name yet. We're still working out if we can still do it," Roy said.

"I'm not doing anything at the moment, you know that better than anyone. Sure, I'd like to do something with Ace, but we haven't got that far yet. We're still working out what to do with The Move. If you've got a proposal for me, I'm willing to listen," Bev said.

"I don't know. It's not really ready for that yet. But I'd like you to be a part of it if it ever gets off the ground. 'mmean, you don't have to, but if you've got nothing better to do..." Roy trailed off and stared at the table, fiddling with the coaster.

"Like I said, make me an offer and I'll consider it. Just because I'd like to do something with Ace doesn't mean I'm not open to other offers. What have you got in mind?" Bev said.

It took Roy a while to explain exactly what he had in mind, not helped by Jeff interrupting every now and then to add in his own ideas. Bev was interested, but Roy was right. There wasn't really anything there at the moment. It was more of an idea in his head and until it became reality, there wasn't much point in getting too excited.

Bev was more interested in the fact Roy still wanted to keep doing The Move. Part of the reason nothing had been done yet was that Jeff wasn't willing to leave his own band just yet. They were getting their debut album out any time now and Jeff wasn't ready to give up on it. Maybe there was life left in The Move still if Roy had nothing else to do. It might not've been the best reason to continue with The Move, but if it meant things were finally sorted and they could go back to playing gigs, so be it.

They talked a lot more about all sorts of things. Bev couldn't help noticing the way Jeff kept looking at Roy, giving him sly glances every now and then. Roy did stop paying attention when they started talking about football, but Bev was used to it. Roy did that all the time.

 

 _Jeff's house, Shard End Crescent, Shard End, Birmingham, July 1968_  
It went late, and Bev found himself crashing at Jeff's place for no other reason than it was only a few streets away from the pub. It had been a productive evening, and the more Roy talked about his ideas, the more fantastic they became, and Bev wasn't quite sure he wasn't telling the truth.

Jeff had tried to manoeuvre Bev into bed with him, but Bev brushed him off. He wouldn't cheat on Ace, even if he was drunk, and he'd noticed Jeff only had eyes for Roy anyway. He wasn't surprised. He'd seen how they were together. Jeff looked a little sulky, but did let him be and Bev collapsed onto the spare bed, falling happily to sleep.

* * *

Bev woke far too early to find someone sitting on the edge of his bed. Bev sat up slowly, rubbing his sore head. Squinting, he saw Jeff sitting there, staring at the floor. Jeff turned to look at him, but said nothing. Apologising under his breath, Jeff left him alone. Too hung over to work out what was going on, he lay back and went to sleep again.

* * *

"'m sorry, 'bout las' night," Jeff muttered by way of an apology when Bev woke properly some hours later. "Shoulda. Y'know."

"Eh, it's nothing, don't worry about it," Bev said, pretending he knew what he was apologising for.

"You sure? Cos, I mean-" Jeff paused and fell silent again, looking away from him.

"If there's something you want to say, just say it. I'm not going to bite your head off," Bev said.

Jeff didn't reply immediately. Bev sat back on the sofa, drinking his coffee, while Jeff paced around the room. Eventually, Jeff came to sit beside him and stared at the ground again.

"Nah, nah, it's nothing. Jus' - fer nearly getting you to bed. Y'know. Was stupid of me. 'm sorry," Jeff muttered. He glanced over at him, panic setting in. "Cos I'm not like that, not really. I don't- I don't do that sort of thing. It was- we were drunk, right?"

"Yeah, we were. Why apologise? It's not like anything happened. Do you mind if I shower before I head off?" Bev said, changing the subject.

"Uh, sure. Y'know where it is. I'll get you a towel," Jeff said distractedly. He got up and headed out of the room.

"My, he's a strange lad. No wonder Roy likes him so much," Bev murmured as he watched him go.

 

 _The Marquee Club, Soho, London, September 1968_  
Money had forced their hand. Bev did understand that motive. It wasn't like they all had a Lord to take care of them. Plus, Roy wasn't ready to shift off and do something else just yet so he'd reluctantly stuck around. They had asked Ace to join them again, but he'd declined. Bev completely understood why, but it still hurt. Ace was supposed to focus on his studies now, not run about in bands. Bev felt it was wrong to try and complicate his life any further. The Birmingham music scene was still hostile to him as well, and Bev had to try not to be offended at the congratulations they received for reforming after kicking the fraud out. Bev decided the fight wasn't worth it.

Ace hadn't been back to Birmingham since the breakdown, and that trend was to continue. He did like being back at the Marquee though. He'd always liked playing there. Bev had convinced him to come to their show, their first show in nearly ten months, and to come in disguise if he'd feel safer that way. They all wanted him there, even if he was just watching, and it made the fact that he wouldn't be playing with them a little easier to bear.

Ace had joined them backstage, and he watched the crowds file in, wishing he was going on stage that night. He had disguised himself, though. Hearing some girls bitching about him as he slipped past them reminded him how hostile the world could be. He was safe most of the time, shut away in Coventry, but it was an insular world, and Ace knew it. Bev had tried to coax him out to Coventry, but Ace had been reluctant to go. He wasn't sure they'd take to him any better than the Brummie musos had, and he didn't want any trouble. His confidence had been severely shattered and it was only just beginning to be rebuilt.

In their tiny dressing room, Ace leant against the door, gazing at his feet. He hated that he couldn't even go out as himself anymore. Sure, the rest of the band had stood by him, but no one else did. He almost hadn't come to the show. He was worried someone might recognise him and then there'd be real trouble. But Bev reassured him they'd protect him if anything like that happened. Ace was just thankful they weren't playing in Birmingham. He doubted he'd have had the courage to go to a gig in Birmingham.

As it turned out, nothing happened at all. Ace kept to the shadows at the back of the club, watching them on stage. The crowd did love them, and even if there were a few insulting calls Ace heard amongst the cheers, he could ignore them as he saw how happy his friends were. What he didn't expect was just how many of their fans still somehow supported him when Carl was talking about why it had taken them so long to come back. It almost made him want to walk out there and tell them he was still there, but he kept back. He still didn't feel confident enough to face a crowd, even if they were supportive. He'd also promised his mother he wouldn't join another band until he'd at least finished college, so he contented himself with memories and dreams. Maybe one day he'd get back up there again.

 

 _Carhampton Estate, Coventry, Christmas 1969_  
It had not been a good year. Trevor had left mid-year, tired of playing without Ace. Bev had almost gone with him, but Carl persuaded him to stay for the moment while the momentum was still high. They were still recording their second album, and there were high hopes it would do as well as the first.

But that would only work if Roy bothered to write some more songs for them. Problem was, he had been too distracted by Jeff, and while they had tried to keep the band going, with their main songwriter's attention pulled elsewhere, it was never going to last. There was no one to pick up the slack and keep the band going. It was almost a relief when he finally came out and said he was moving on, forming a new band with Jeff. Left in a bit of a limbo, the rest of The Move had drifted off to other things, mostly because Roy wouldn't let Carl have The Move. Carl had wanted to reform it with Ace and keep going, but Roy said no. Carl did his best not to punch him in the face.

In the confusion, Roy had again asked Bev to join him in his new band, especially as there was an actual band to join now, but Bev hesitated. There were too many options going around, too many ideas for things that may or may not happen, and Bev needed some time to work out what to do. In lieu of making a decision, he'd gone down to Ace's for Christmas, hoping the time away might help him decide what to do.

He'd brought his mother down as well. Ace had invited them both to come and stay for Christmas, and Remus was already enjoying the extra space as he ran about the grounds. He didn't run about for long, though, as the snow began to fall. Confined to the house, he did behave for the most part, and Bev did think it was strange for a dog to like sitting by a fire quite so much as he did. He never did that at home.

The first thing Ace did when he arrived was take Bev to his room. Bev knew the reasons for that and didn't bother asking, but instead of pulling him into a kiss, Ace shut the door and excitedly pulled out a box from the back of his wardrobe and set it on the bed. Curious, Bev went over and peered in, wondering what it contained.

"I've been waiting to show you these. They only arrived last week," Ace said as he opened the box and pulled out some brand new prosthetic cocks. They were the most realistic Bev had ever seen, and rather trumped the not-quite-perfect ones he had.

"You been getting custom made cocks again? They're beautiful," Bev said as he picked one up.

"Oh, but it gets better. Like, they're not just for sex. See how this one's got a hole down the shaft? I can use urinals properly and no one even notices. I can't tell you how much that makes me stop hating my body so much," Ace said, showing him a smaller one.

Bev was definitely impressed. He didn't have one of those. He just used cubicles. "I suppose you're going to tell me I can't afford that one either, yeah?"

"No, they were made just for me. We had to go to America to get them made properly. They fit my body an' everything. And yeah, they charged a lot for the privilege cos no one else was willing to do it for me. No one makes these, so it took most of the year to get designs that worked. I can't tell you how amazing it is to stand up for that. It's the closest I've ever come to a proper cock. I'm still trying to get them to make me one that's made from a more natural-looking material though. It passes at a glance, because we're not looking anyway, but it's too hard if you ever did touch it, and I can't really wear it all the time either. It tucks in okay, but I still feel like it looks too big so I tend to use other ones if it stands out too much," Ace said.

"It's probably a good thing I don't really need them, then. Though there are times when I wish I could get better ones. I suppose I'll just have to borrow yours," Bev said.

"Do you want some of my old ones? They're clean, it's not like I ever use them. I still don't have much of a sex drive, can you believe it? Only, don't tell mum that. She's still hoping for grandchildren one day," Ace said.

"If you're willing to share, sure, I'll take a few off your hands. Still got that one with the harness? I really liked that one," Bev said.

Ace went back to the wardrobe to retrieve the other box. "Um, yeah, I think so."

Ace returned with the harness and handed it over. Bev would give it a clean when he got home out of habit, just to be safe, but he did believe Ace when he said he rarely used them. They'd grown used to the strange sex life they did have, in which Ace rarely participated and Bev did his best to accommodate that. Ace still liked watching him masturbate, and over the years, Bev had coaxed him into learning how to get him off. At least then, it didn't feel like Ace was being left out.

"You want any others?" Ace said, setting the other box down.

Bev looked through them, but he was content with the one he had. He'd grown to like the slick black leather harness, even if it was obvious it was a strap-on. Then again, he seemed to attract girls who quite liked a boy with a cock that never got soft, so he didn't mind if it didn't look all that natural. If there was any reason not to make a show of it, it was to avoid the other boys getting jealous of him. Some girls had even brought their own dildos for him to use if they met up more than once. Bev didn't mind in the slightest. It would be even easier to accommodate with the harness as it was designed to take all sorts of cocks and dildos. That should spice things up a bit. Not that he was considering cheating on him at all, but the possibility was there to play with all sorts of cocks now, not just the cheaper prosthetic ones he had access to.

"Wanna fuck me with your new cock then? You haven't done that for a while. It's okay if you're not interested though," Bev said.

"We haven't done it in a while because you haven't asked. I hoped you might this time, though. If I'm going to use them more often, it'd be nice if they worked for you too. I could get them resized if they're too big or too small," Ace said.

"We'd better try them out and see how good they are, since you've got proper good ones now," Bev said.

Clearing the bed, they wasted little time in stripping. Ace attached his new cock and brought Bev into his arms. He didn't mind standing naked before Bev anymore, especially since he'd had his breasts removed. He was still scrawny, but it didn't matter. Bev didn't care.

They kissed, and Bev worked his way down Ace's body to his cock, stroking the shaft slowly. It was a bit harder than it should be, but it didn't feel that different, at least not to Bev. He sat Ace down on the edge of the bed and knelt between his legs. He wanted to see if he could make Ace feel like it was part of him the way he often felt with his own cock.

Ace gazed down in wonder as Bev went down on him, and the illusion was stronger than he'd anticipated. It really did feel real, and the sensations in his groin were wonderful. It slicked up nicely, and the material didn't feel that weird in Bev's mouth. The cock had balls attached, and Bev sucked on them too. Even though he knew it wasn't a real cock, he felt everything. He lay back as he came hard, realising Bev hadn't even touched his real genitals at all. He'd come just from Bev sucking on a fake cock. Maybe he did have a sex drive after all.

It wasn't a bad way to start, and they shifted onto the bed properly after that. It took a while to work out the best position for sex, but it was worth it. Using a condom to protect the cock from harm and so he could add some extra lube without damaging it, Ace prepared to push forward. He was always a little nervous about it as he'd never had much practice, but Bev was never worried, and his reassurance settled him enough to go through with it.

Bev was on his stomach for once, and Ace curled around him as he pushed in. He clawed at the duvet, drinking in the sensations. Once they'd found their rhythm, Ace sped up a little, watching out for any sign of discomfort from him. Bev just kept encouraging him, pushing against him as he tried to find the best angle.

Bev was never sure why he liked anal so much, but he'd stopped trying to work that out ages ago. Certainly, it felt more appropriate for a boy to be fucked up the arse than in front, but Bev knew he wasn't much of an appropriate boy anyway, given how much he liked sex in front as well, and with almost anyone at all. Male, female, it didn't matter. He was rather more flexible with his sexuality than he'd anticipated. He did miss the one girl who was interested enough to fuck him back. She had looked so very attractive thrusting inside him. But he was with Ace now and the desire to look her up again was long gone.

Ace was enjoying himself so much he even felt himself get a little aroused. It was nowhere near tipping over into an orgasm, but that didn't matter. He kept thrusting, waiting for Bev to come. Not having his own pleasure to worry about, Ace had spent more time paying attention to Bev and his various states of arousal. He knew what got him off, and he could feel that slight tensing in his muscles as he got close. His breath hitched a little, and he pushed a bit harder. Be did encourage him, and he did cue him in every now and then, but Ace liked being able to read him without being told.

Ace knew he'd come when his body stiffened and he heard Bev exhale, his breathing ragged and fast. When they fucked face to face, Ace often kept a hand over his heart. He could feel it beating under his palm, and he'd almost worked out how to tell he was coming from his heartbeat alone. Bev relaxed as he settled down, and Ace lingered only a moment before pulling out. Bev lay there glowing with warmth as Ace cleaned up.

"That. Was fucking fantastic. You can keep that one," Bev murmured as Ace lay down beside him, cock no longer attached to his body.

Ace pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "I was planning to keep it. I figured we could try the other two out later. One's shorter and thinner, the other's longer and a little wider. I wasn't sure which one you'd like best so I got all three."

"Later. Totally later on. Lemme just lie here for a while," Bev said with a wide grin, his eyes half closed.

* * *

They didn't talk about bands until after Boxing Day and everything had settled down again. Ace had converted an old barn into a proper music room, with equipment Bev had only ever seen in proper studios. Having not brought his drums with him, Ace was attempting to teach him how to play guitar, but it seemed Bev had no talent for it and exaggerated how bad he was just to annoy him. Having discovered how to make the guitar screech, Ace decided enough was enough. Bev was just pleased he wouldn't have a career as a guitarist to look forward to. Leaving the instruments by the wall, they took to the sofa against one of the walls.

"I suppose I should be pleased I'll never be like Roy and know how to play almost any instrument in existence. That'll save me some money," Bev mused.

"How's he doing anyway? He finally got that new band sorted didn't he?" Ace said.

Bev sighed. "Yeah, he did. He asked me to join him, but I haven't said yes yet."

"Why not? It'll be amazing if Roy's got anything to do with it," Ace said. "I'd join if he asked."

"I don't know. I don't know what to do anymore. It's all too confusing. Carl still wants to make something of what's left though. I think he'd be willing to have you back too, but I know you're not into that at the moment. No idea what Trevor's up to. Last I heard he'd joined another band and spent the last six months stoned out of his mind. Maybe Roy is the best option til something better comes along," Bev said.

"If you're worried about being away from me, don't. I can handle it. I'm not going to stop you if you want to join him. I've got enough to do here. You've got your dad to live up to. Why would I stop you doing that?" Ace said.

"I wasn't sure what you'd think. I mean, it's not like I need a band anymore. I have you. There's not the same sort of pressure there like there is for the others. But I can't bear not being in a band of some sort, even if it's just you and me. I don't even know if Roy's idea is even going to take off, but maybe it's worth a go, just to see where it goes. What'd you reckon? Sound like a good idea? It can't hurt, can it?" Bev said.

"Just come home once in a while, that's all I'm asking. We can jam in here if I get a spare kit for you. Maybe even get Carl and Trev down here too. Who's the bloke Roy's partnered up with? I don't know if I ever met him," Ace said.

"That'd be Jeff Lynne. He's not too bad. Bit like Roy, y'know? I'm pretty sure there's something going on between them, but I don't care enough to find out. I mean, he's nice enough, and he is a good songwriter, y'know? And they seem to like each other. I can't see why it won't work," Bev said.

Ace didn't remember him, but he figured he'd meet him eventually. "Well, I hope it goes well. And if it doesn't, I'm sure we'll be able to form our own band soon enough. We can do all the things Roy wouldn't let us do, like let me write songs."

"Deal. I'm going to hold you to that, you know," Bev said with a grin.

 

 _Carhampton Estate, Coventry, April 1972_  
Bev had just come back from Rome with the band and driven straight to Ace's Coventry estate. It had been a long tour of Italy, made even longer by the fact that Jeff and Roy had almost refused to speak to each other the entire time. Roy spent most of his time locked up in his room. Jeff just sulked and drank too much. Bev kept out of their way. Roy never said anything, and Jeff just whined about it all being someone else's fault.

The past two years had been very trying, not least because he had spent most of it being part of two bands. It was all a little ridiculous, and he'd spent so long in studios in London he'd lost track of almost everything. He had no idea what he'd been recording for what band. They all began to sound the same after a while. He'd managed to see Ace when he could either in Coventry or in London, but as their schedule got busier and busier, it wasn't always possible.

Still, he didn't want to think about any of that now. He had grown quite fond of the much smaller house Ace's parents had bought a few years ago. It wasn't too ostentatious, and it felt like a proper home. Every room had a use, and it was just big enough for the three of them, a few guests, and the four servants they'd kept on to help keep the house running.

He'd arrived just before dinner, and Ace invited him in warmly, greeting him with a hug. They stole a quick kiss in the hall before they were ushered into the dining room. It might not've been a special dinner just for him, but Bev had never eaten so well. He caught up with Sandra as well, and while she wasn't his therapist anymore, he hadn't needed therapy for several years now, they were still good friends. She liked knowing how he was doing.

Afterwards, there was nothing to do but sit by the fire as they finally had a chance to talk alone. Ace rubbed his shoulders, and Bev relaxed into his touch, pleased to be away from everything. They spent the night together, curled up in Ace's bed, promising not to be apart so often.

* * *

A week later, they were down with the horses. They'd just been for a ride around the estate, and the horses were grazing by the stream that cut into their property. Far away from everything, with no buildings in sight, it seemed like the end of the world. They sat under a tree, taking some shade from the unusually fine weather.

"So how was Rome really? Was it so bad you can't bring yourself to talk about it to me?" Ace said.

Bev brushed it off. "There's just not much to talk about. Jeff and Roy spent the whole time ignoring each other. I just tried to stay out of it. I called Jeff yesterday, just to see how he was, but apparently he hasn't seen Roy since we got back, and he's all fucking paranoid about it. I don't know why he asked me. It's not like I've seen him either. Jeff knows I'm here with you, so why he thinks I've seen Roy down here I'll never know. What would he be doing out here anyway?"

"This'll end badly, just you wait. Maybe you should quit while you're ahead and come live here. You'd never be away from me then," Ace said.

"But I like it when they're not fighting, you know. You going to come to the show next month? Only I don't think you've been for a while, have you?" Bev said.

"It's been a while, yeah, but I've had other things to do. I'll come, though. I miss seeing you play," Ace said.

Bev was about to reply when another rider approached. Bev looked to see who it was, and was more than a little surprised to see Roy sitting up there. Before Bev got a chance to talk to him, Roy had turned and fled, riding back the way he came.

"Roy, what the hell are you doing here? Roy? Oi, come back here! I just wanna talk!" Bev called as he chased after him. He gave up as Roy rode off into the distance. "Fucking wanker. What's he doing here? Did you know he was here?"

"Hey, don't look at me. He calls me up before the tour and says he wants to stay for a while once he gets back, says he has some music he needs to write or something. I don't know. We got a small cottage down there that he wanted to stay in. I'm hardly going to say no to an old friend, though that's the first time I've seen him since he arrived, so I'm as clueless as you as to why he's here," Ace said.

"I have no idea what's going on in this stupid band anymore. I swear, no one tells me anything," Bev said as he sat down again.

"Reckon we should go after him? Or let him be?" Ace said.

"We should probably go after him. I haven't seen him since we got back. If he's sulking again, I swear-"

"Come on, then. Let's go sort him out," Ace said, getting to his feet.

* * *

The cottage was a short ride away from where they were, situated on the edge of the estate behind the woods. It was an old woodcutter's house, but no one lived there now, and Ace had to admit they mostly used it for storage. They found Roy's horse tied up out the front, figuring he was inside. Before they entered the small cottage, Ace pedantically rehitched Roy's horse as he'd done the knot wrong. If the horse escaped, he'd be in serious trouble.

The cottage was sort of cleaned up, but not very much. Roy had made a space for his bed, and some space to write, but the rest was as it was, with papers and boxes and other assorted junk left lying all over the place. They found Roy at the back of the cottage. He was playing his clarinet and scoring some music. He looked at them as they approached, not saying a word.

"How long are you going to stay here for? You can't just ignore me, you know," Bev said.

"I can if I want," Roy said. "Why are you here anyway? I thought you were staying with your mum."

"Yeah, after I've stayed with Ace for a while. Honestly, you're never paying attention anymore. I haven't seen Ace for weeks. We need some time to ourselves every now and then. That's not a crime, is it?" Bev said.

"Yeah, well, you ignored me the whole bloody tour. What am I supposed to do?" Roy said petulantly.

"Speak for yourself. I believe you were the one shutting yourself in your hotel room the whole time. You never wanted to come to the bloody pub so I spent the whole time watching Jeff get drunk and bitch to me about how you were ignoring him. Can you two please sort your shit out already? I'm not going on another tour with you two if that's the way you're both going to behave," Bev said.

Roy set his clarinet down and folded his arms, frowning. "I wasn't ignoring him, I was-" He paused a moment before continuing. "Well, maybe I don't want to do this anymore."

"Oh, don't leave me with Jeff. You don't have to leave. I'm sure you guys can sort it out," Bev said.

"What's wrong anyway? I thought you two were friends," Ace said.

"We are. We were. I don't know anymore. He keeps saying I'm stealing credit for his work, but it's not true. It's not me, it's from above, but he never believes me. He doesn't trust me anymore. Bastard. Might as well leave him on his own then if he can't learn to trust me," Roy said.

Bev decided to try a different angle. "You know he'll be heartbroken if you leave. You know he's madly in love with you, right?"

Roy looked at him strangely. "No, no he isn't. He's got that bird, whatshername. That one with the hair. I swear, they just got married, didn't they? So he can't be in love with me. He's not in love with me. Why would he be in love with me?"

"Roy, even I can see it. He's besotted with you. I never said anything as it wasn't really my place to say it, and I'm better friends with you anyway, but it's obvious from the way he looks at you. If you're going to leave, at least make peace with him first," Ace said.

"Yeah, he might be married now, but it's you he's in love with. I'm surprised you can't see it. I think almost everyone's noticed it. Half the Italians in the pub would've noticed, given how he kept going on about it," Bev said.

Roy got up and walked away from them, pausing by the window as he looked out at the farmland. He wasn't ready to accept that sort of news from them, and the thought of Jeff being in love with him was not the sort of news he wanted to hear. Before Bev could stop him, he ran away again.

"I wish he'd stop fucking doing that," Bev said wearily.

"Hey, you were the one who brought it up. You've probably scared him half to death now. Why don't we leave him for now? He'll come to his own decision some time. Besides, we should get back. I'm sure you'd like to get clean before dinner," Ace said.

Bev took his implied meaning, and they rode back to the estate, leaving Roy to his own devices. It was an irritating problem to have two of his bandmates at each other's throats, but what could Bev do about it? He didn't want to know. He didn't want to get involved because he knew they'd put him in the middle and make him take sides. Not his thing. He let it go, hoping they'd sort it out on their own.

 

 _Bev's house, Moseley, Birmingham, May 1972_  
Roy was still missing, or possibly still ignoring Jeff. No one had seen him, not his parents, or any of the Birmingham musicians either. He'd just vanished off the face of the Earth. Ace wasn't sure he was still in the small cottage, and the horse had been returned to the stables, so it wasn't like he was riding if he was still down there. If he'd moved on, Ace didn't know where. Jeff had not taken the news very well at all, and he'd just become more panicked and anxious the longer he was gone. He kept blaming himself for driving him away, and nothing Bev could say brought him any relief.

With the band stalled indefinitely until Roy could be found, Bev had almost stayed down with Ace for the time being, but he knew he couldn't do that. Jeff kept ringing every day, badgering him to come back, so he'd finally relented and done his best to ease his ragged nerves. Jeff was so sure he'd fucked everything up, that he couldn't even work with him without driving him away, and wouldn't listen to anything Bev said.

They were sat in the lounge room, Jeff staring at his feet. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, but Bev said nothing. He'd said everything he could think of. Jeff wasn't interested in listening.

"You don't think he's-"

Jeff wouldn't let him continue. "Don't you dare finish that sentence. He's not. I swear, he wouldn't- y'don't know him, Bev. He's not like that. He wouldn't do that, he wouldn't. Not to me. He wouldn't do that to me."

Bev rested a hand on his shoulder, but Jeff shrugged it off, not wanting his sympathy. Bev sat back, unsure how to comfort him.

"He's been missing for over a month and a half, Jeff. This isn't just him being a hermit. He's gone. No one knows where and he's left no trace behind. He hasn't even surfaced in London. He's gone, and I don't know if he's ever coming back. Don't you think it's time to accept that and try to move on? Isn't that what he'd want?"

"But I don't know if I can do it without him. It was always his idea. I'd just ruin it. He wanted brass, and I didn't. I don't even like brass. It just didn't fit, but that's what he wanted. How'm I supposed to live up to him anyway? He's better than me," Jeff said, curling into the sofa.

Bev didn't bother replying to that. They'd had that conversation too many times before, and he wasn't interested in going over the same arguments again. He'd never really considered himself as being all that close to him either, and he'd never bothered coming out to him. Jeff had spent most of the past few years with Roy, not him. They were friends, sure, but they weren't close enough for Bev to feel like he should tell him his secrets just yet. Without Roy, Jeff clung to Bev now, seeking anything he was willing to offer. Bev wasn't sure how much he was willing to give.

Jeff wasn't clinging to him now. He pulled away at his touch, and finally the tears came. "I loved him so much, but I never told him, he never let me. What am I supposed to do now?"

Bev hesitated a moment before replying. He was willing to chance the reaction if it might help him. "Er, actually, I told him."

Jeff looked at him with a mixture of relief and anger. "What? When did you do that?"

Bev shrugged. "About a week after we got back? He'd been staying in this little cottage on Ace's property down there, but we only ever saw him once. I didn't even know that's where he was. We talked, and that's when I told him. He was thinking of leaving, but I didn't know this is what he had in mind. I thought it might make him stay."

Jeff was horrified. He had never wanted that particular secret to get out. "How did you even know? I never told anyone that."

"Everyone knew. Even Ace noticed. You were hardly subtle about it. I figured it might make him reconsider, but he just fled. I don't think he even realised. I thought he'd just disappear for a while and come back soon enough, but he hasn't come back yet. Ace hasn't seen him at all and it doesn't look like he's been there since we saw him. I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd drive him away. Trust me, if I knew where he was, I'd go bring him back," Bev said.

Jeff didn't respond immediately, taking time to digest what he'd said. "So... So I suppose I'll never know if he ever loved me back, will I?"

"Probably not, unless he decides to show his face again. You know we need to decide what we're going to do now, don't you? You can't spend your life waiting for him either. He might never come back. I'm happy to stick around if you're still willing to move on and keep the band going, but if you're not interested in that, I'll find something else to do. I've got Ace to think about. I don't want to be away from him any more than I have to," Bev said.

Jeff got to his feet, glaring down at him enviously. "You and your poncy lord. You don't even need to work if you don't want to, not if he's looking after you. You don't have to worry about anything. Just - just leave me. I need time to think."

Bev watched him go, unwilling to go after him. He'd had just about enough of the sneering from him towards Ace. It was partly why Ace hadn't been in a band since that had come out. They just thought he was a liar now. He wasn't one of them anymore. He was just thankful Ace hadn't been around to hear some of the insults that had been thrown about. It made Bev want to leave the music scene for good and spend the rest of his life with Ace. It wasn't an impossible dream anymore and there was more than enough temptation to do so. One more push. That was all he needed and he'd leave it all behind for good. He had no time for their anger anymore.

* * *

Still, he wasn't going to let Jeff get away with that without some consequence and after giving himself a moment to calm down, followed him outside. He found him pacing agitatedly out in the back yard, muttering quietly to himself. He obviously didn't think he was being overheard.

Jeff kicked at the grass with his shoe. "Bloody Bev and his Earl. Got it made, he has, while I'm left alone in the dirt. Roy's not here and I'm all alone. He's not one of us anymore. He was never one of us. What would he know about loss anyway?"

Bev, to his credit, held his temper as he approached him. He had no energy to argue anymore. "My dad died when I was ten, or had you forgotten that?"

Jeff blushed, embarrassed, as he turned to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Bev. I forgot. I didn't mean to-"

Bev shot him an irritated look. Maybe he should yell at him after all. It might be cathartic. "You never mean to do anything, do you? Don't pretend you were the only one who ever loved him either. I knew Roy before you did. I miss him too. I wish I knew where he was. I wish he'd come back. But I don't think that's going to happen. I don't say that to cheapen your feelings, but really, what hope have we got that he's still alive?"

"But there's no body. He can't be dead if they haven't got any proof," Jeff said, trying to convince himself as much as Bev.

Bev shrugged, helpless. "I don't know. Maybe he fell in a canal. Maybe he's been buried somewhere. Maybe he just wandered off somewhere. Maybe we'll never know where he ended up. But he went into those woods and hasn't come out yet, and no amount of searching has found anything to suggest he's still alive. Do you really think this is easy to accept? Do you really think I want this to be true? It's not. I don't. I don't want him to be dead, Jeff. I really don't. But you never cared what I was going through anyway. Didn't you think how I'd feel, seeing you arguing all the time? It hurt to see you two fighting. I wish you'd been able to work together as friends. I wish- I wish you'd stop being so fucking selfish, you know? You're not the only one mourning him. I'm grieving for him just as much as you are, and I won't let you pretend you're the only one who cared about him. He belonged to no one, least of all you, and it's time you acknowledged that."

Jeff scowled but said nothing. Bev wanted to hit him, but he walked away a little, not wanting to look at him at that moment. He had grown tired of Jeff monopolising Roy. How Jeff dismissed him so easily because he had happened to fall in love with Ace, who happened to come from a noble family, even though he really didn't. Bev couldn't help how his life had turned out. He hadn't planned any of it. But he wouldn't share any of his secrets, to tell Jeff just how it really was. He wasn't that angry, and he knew Ace probably wouldn't forgive him for that. Jeff didn't need to know.

"I'm sorry," Jeff said eventually. "I got too caught up with- with stuff. With Roy. With everything."

Bev turned back to him. "I know. You only cared about Roy, but I accepted that. I got used to it. You were the songwriters. I was just the drummer. What did it matter who I was? I could've been anyone. Sure, you took away a good friend of mine, but hey, I'm not bitter. It didn't matter."

"But it did matter though, didn't it? I just didn't see that. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about that. I never meant- but you never said anything, anyway. And Roy just ignored me half the time. I've lost him now." Jeff glanced at Bev. "We've both lost him. Maybe you're right. Maybe he's never coming back. It's been six weeks. Surely they'd have found him by now."

Bev sighed. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? Even if they found him dead, at least it'd be an answer one way or another. But what else could've happened to him? Where else could he be, if he's not dead? Where the hell are you, Roy? Why won't you come back?"

 

 _Carhampton Estate, Coventry, July 1974_  
Roy was still missing. Unable to bring himself to continue with the band, Jeff had quit and disappeared somewhere as well. Bev remembered hearing something about a new band, but he hadn't been invited to join so he'd let it be. With nothing else to do, Bev had moved in permanently at the estate, happy to spend his days not doing anything at all with Ace by his side. Maybe they'd form another band, but it didn't particularly matter if they didn't.

Jeff was right that he didn't need to worry about money. With the smaller estate, Ace's family had more than enough money to keep them going for decades, and they'd even leant out some of the land to some local farmers to reduce their financial burden. Bev felt he should feel bad about hanging about doing nothing, but it beat having a proper job, so his guilt didn't last that long.

With Ace's transition almost complete, barring his reproductive organs, he was happier than he'd ever been, and he was more than happy to indulge in a stress-free life. He'd decided against university, even though there had been offers. He couldn't think of anything he wanted to do, so he'd let it drop. His mother wasn't entirely pleased, but she'd rather see him happy rather than stressed out again. Still, he had managed to finish college quite well, which she was more than happy to accept for the moment, given everything he'd been through. No one was more eager to avoid a relapse than Ace and even if it hadn't happened yet, and it was unlikely to happen again unless he pushed himself too far, he felt he'd rather not risk it.

They'd had their own fun anyway. Going to society balls was always fun, though only because they spent the time dancing with each other, rather than with any of the available girls, just to annoy everyone. They didn't care. Most importantly, Ace's father didn't mind either. Ace wasn't sure why he didn't mind, but he even encouraged him on occasion when he'd had a few too many glasses of port. So Ace and Bev spent the night dancing in each other's arms, and had the best fun ever, considering how they never really wanted to fit in with polite society anyway. It made it bearable.

They often spent their time in Ace's makeshift barn studio too, not always composing, but sometimes just mucking about to see what they'd come up with. They sometimes did some recording too, since Ace had the right set-up for that. It was a good space to play in, away from the main house. It was safe enough Bev didn't even mind keeping his kit out there, and he could bash away at them whenever he liked.

They'd recently hooked up with Trevor again, who was looking for a band to play in. With no pressure, and with no Roy to dominate everything, Ace could turn his hand to songwriting, and he was good. They had only a few songs to their name, and they were just mucking about, but maybe when they felt ready, they might venture out into the music scene again. Ace was mostly worried he'd get all the bad shit again, with people not willing to accept him as a musician anymore. Trevor wasn't convinced it would be that bad, it's not like the hatred was still there, and it was several years since he'd been out. Things change, and people forget. Ace had the talent to pull it off, he just needed the confidence.

The estate was peaceful. Ace's father was often away in London, and so was his mother, so they often had the place to themselves. Ace found he didn't miss them as much as he used to when he was younger. He had Bev with him now anyway, staving off most of his loneliness. Ace never bothered with all the formalities though, at least while his parents were away. He never made a fuss most of the time, but it did make him uncomfortable to have servants, even after all this time. It had intensified since Bev had moved in with him, as if it was embarrassing to have them around, and though everyone in the house knew they shared a bed, it wasn't public knowledge. As far as society was concerned, they were merely close friends. Whatever else they wanted to assume was their business.

They slept late, and Bev lay there in bed, wishing there was sunlight drizzling in through the windows. Instead, the soft patter of rain hit the glass, and Bev knew they'd be spending another day inside. It had rained all week, and while it wasn't so bad spending all day inside, he did miss being outside. Maybe he'd try and goad Ace into a trip into Coventry, just for a change of scenery.

Ace stirred then, shifting into Bev's arms. Reluctant to wake, he smiled as Bev began brushing his hair gently.

"Can't be morning. No bloody sun," Ace murmured, shifting back into his broad accent a little as he spoke. It often happened in the morning and Bev found it adorable.

Bev checked the time. "No, it's after lunch, that's what. And still no bloody sun. Can we get out of the house today? Not that I don't mind being here, but I'm not going to let some rain spoil my fun. I feel like a change of scenery."

Ace sighed, though at least he got the sense Bev had been there so long the house had become rather ordinary. That was a strange realisation. "Yep, sure. Whatever you like. Do I have to get up? It's nice here."

"I suppose we could stay for a while, but not too long. I'm starving, man, and I need some coffee. Bloody headache," Bev said.

"I did tell you not to have all that wine last night, y'know," Ace said smugly.

Bev retaliated by playfully shoving Ace out of bed. "There. Now you're up. Come on, lard arse, time to get moving."

The unexpected tumble had surprised him, but he wasn't hurt, and he did see his point. Getting to his feet, he pulled his robe on opened the windows properly. Fuck, the weather was so depressing lately. Maybe they should go somewhere warm for a while. The thought didn't linger as Bev came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

"See? Told you. Come on, I'll drive and we'll go somewhere nice, yeah?" Bev murmured.

Ace smiled and leant back against him. "Somewhere with sun. That'd be nice. Otherwise, I'm not fussed."

"Not sure I can do sun, but nice, sure. Come on, breakfast time," Bev said.

They shared a quick kiss before dressing and heading down to see if there was any food to be had. Bev had plans forming for a trip to Coventry at the very least. Maybe they'd just drive around for a while. He just wanted to get out of the house, and they'd decide their itinerary along the way. They arranged for a simple meal to start the day before they went.

They took Bev's car for once, if only because Ace felt his was a bit too posh for a rambling day trip. Bev didn't mind at all, and he liked driving anyway. They headed into Birmingham first, if only because they hadn't been there for a while. It had taken Ace a long time to feel comfortable enough venturing back there again, and even with Bev by his side, he still felt nervous. They arrived in time to catch an afternoon matinee and if they happened to snog in the back row in the dark a few times, well, it wasn't like anyone noticed.

* * *

They took a detour to Warwick Castle on the way back. Bev had never really seen it up close before and though they couldn't get into the castle itself, the grounds were still accessible, and it seemed a nice way to cap off the day, since it had finally decided to stop raining. There was hardly anyone around, but Ace thought that made it even better.

They stopped under one of the trees, gazing back at the castle. Bev felt they should come back one day and look around properly. Bev glanced over at Ace and noticed how anxious he seemed. Their idle chatter wasn't going anywhere, but it wasn't awkward. They were just filling the silence. Bev got the feeling Ace was stalling, but didn't want to push him. Eventually, Ace pulled out a small box from his jacket.

"What've you got there?" Bev asked, curiously.

Ace stalled again before coming to stand in front of Bev. If the ground had been dry, Ace felt he might've knelt down instead, but he didn't. He opened the box and closed it again.

"I know it's silly, and I know we can't even properly get married yet, but I just thought - if I was going to marry anyone, I'd really like it to be you," Ace said, finally showing him the silver ring in the box.

Bev wasn't sure what to say to that. He wasn't going to turn him down, but given the situation they were in, he couldn't ask for anything more. Bev had often thought about proposing himself, but it had seemed like such a far-off thing, if they'd ever be able to get married at all, that he never saw the point. He wasn't sure Ace would even appreciate being proposed to, either, so he'd resorted to waiting for him to pop the question instead.

The ring was beautiful though. It wasn't much more than a silver band, but it had beautiful Celtic engravings on it, and inside, Ace had engraved their names. Carefully taking it out, he slipped it on his finger. It wasn't the sort of ring that would draw any attention, and it was only then that he noticed Ace was wearing one too. He'd had two made, one for each of them, and Bev pulled him into a kiss, their hands entwined.

"I don't care if it's silly. I'd marry you in a heartbeat if it was allowed," Bev murmured, hugging him tight.

Ace had never felt so happy in his life. They kissed again, and then one more time, unable to tear themselves away from each other. It wasn't something Ace had planned that morning, but he'd been carrying the rings around for a month and a half, waiting for the right moment to ask.

Ace was about to reply, but a clap of thunder rolled across the sky and the rain returned, sending them fleeing back to the car. They were wet, but happy, and Ace brought him into a kiss as the rain fell around them.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Killiing Yourself To Live](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551352) by [Sashataakheru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru)




End file.
